


The lost plateau - The lost brother

by siriala



Series: The lost plateau [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - The Lost World (TV) Fusion, Bottom Sam, Dinosaurs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Top Dean, Virgin Sacrifice, Virgin Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriala/pseuds/siriala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marooned on the high plateau of the lost world they came to explore, the members of the Campbell-Singer expedition have to fight for their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The lost plateau - The lost brother

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the 2016 spn_j2_bigbang challenge, loosely based on the premise of the 1999 Canadian-Australian TV show The Lost World to give an alternate playing ground to the Supernatural characters. I only used the way they find themselves trapped on a remote place they can't escape and a few details like the group's structure, the rest is pure invention out of my imagination as well as recycling and alteration of the Supernatural canon. The original character Jenn Shore Mills is a thinly veiled disguise to have Danneel Harris Ackles play in this universe. Also, I'm using the original, blonde Meg Masters in this because I liked her a lot.
> 
> My oh-so-talented artist dun created such beautiful artwork that I just couldn't wait to share it all with everyone. I can't encourage you enough to go visit [her LJ](http://dun.livejournal.com/23136.html) to admire her wonderful art. Thanks again, dun, it was a pleasure working with you :)
> 
> Many thanks this year again to Wendy for offering us writers and artists a safe place to play as well as hours of fannish reading, I hope you take pleasure in the challenge as much as we do thanks to you.
> 
> My deepest thanks go to my incredible beta, honscot, who is tireless, dedicated, always respectful and full of pertinent advice. Every time I see the thorough and time-consuming work she does on my fics, I want to cite her as a second writer. She's too modest to accept the idea, so let it be known that this story wouldn't be half what it is now if it wasn't for her involvement and talent. I couldn't do it without you, honscot.

_April 25th_

_I haven't written much recently. It seemed at first that all situations amounted to a new kind of emergency we had no choice but to deal with and survive as best we could. Now my silence stems more from the fact that we've settled into some kind of bizarre domesticity, living up a tree in a cabin where we have to share rooms and try to be as congenial as possible to people we feel very unrelated to. Strangely, quarters didn't feel so close and cramped in the tents at the beginning of our trip. The excitement of the journey as well as the newness of the scenery back then probably explain this difference._

_Forty-four days since we were stranded here on the lost plateau, our hot-air balloon destroyed and no way to build one anew. Nothing has changed much since that chance encounter with Meg. Each day looks like the previous one. Even the rain is predictable, falling each afternoon around the same hour for ten minutes._

_It doesn't mean there weren't a few exciting moments, but I have discovered that even danger can be taken for granted when it's waiting for you behind every tree. At the very least, it kept us fairly busy. Meg taught us how to survive, how to create all those things we used to take for granted in our world, how to avoid dangerous animals and plants – so many of them ! – and to hunt for food. Winchester is definitely the best at it, but I'm beginning to give him a run for his money. True to himself, he enjoys the challenge and eggs me on all the time, pushing me to get better. I guess it means I am at least worthy of his time now, contrary to the way he used to see me when we left for the plateau. The useless journalist, the innocent kid who was going to slow them down, maybe get them all killed. Even Lady Jenn didn't get as much ribbing as I did. Everyone can see that she's been around and that she's more than capable of taking care of herself, while probably saving the reporter in distress._

_As I said, nothing much has changed. Lord Winchester is still an arrogant prick at times. Lady Jenn's smiling haughtiness is still unmatched. I'm surprised those two haven't hooked up yet, or maybe they're too alike to bear the other. Thank God ! Their kids would be the most beautiful for sure, but also just as insufferable. Anyway, I don't think anything happened between their lord and ladyship. They've obviously known each other for a long while, perhaps something has indeed happened but came to an end. Here, Winchester sleeps in the cot next to mine each night. He looks a lot nicer when he loses the constant smirk than irks me so much (and he knows it). I wish I had met him before he became the hard-ass persona he shows to the world. I know that's not the only thing there is to him, he's protected us all at the risk of his own health and life more than once. And I often wonder, when I can't sleep at night because of some undetermined jungle's noise, what made Dean the man he is._

_The Winchester/Campbell relationship hasn't improved at all, quite the contrary. We're lucky they haven't reverted yet to some ancient ways of dealing with frustration and mutual contempt. They seem often enough close to fists and blows to settle their never-ending disagreements. For some reason, Lady Jenn, though perfectly polite, is hardly more respectful with the professor. He tends to ignore her but that's probably because she's a woman and he tolerates her presence only to assure her financial backing._

_When they stop bickering long enough to remember we exist, professors Campbell and Singer keep telling us they'll find a way out of here soon. My guess is they're trying to persuade themselves and piss off each other. I don't think the rest of us ever believed them, no one's that naïve – not even me, whatever Winchester might think – but if anyone did, it's over by now. If at times I look at myself as the least useful member of our merry band, I watch the scientists argue just like they did on that fatal day they decided to go on their big adventure – and I, foolish boy as my mother said, thought it was a good idea to follow, to try and make a name for myself – and then I feel immediately better. I am not a dead weight anymore. Dean is teaching me, and soon I'll be just as good as him._

_Maybe we'll find a way out, but I'm not holding my breath. Better make the best of this situation and learn to live with what we've got. Even if it means cohabitating with a womanizer with too much time on his hands and not enough women to chase. Life can be predictable, here on the plateau, but it's never dull next to Dean Winchester._

 

Sam put the quill down and closed his journal. The constant humidity made it difficult to keep the paper in shape but the name engraved in golden italics – _Sam Wesson's Journal_ – still shone brightly on the leather cover since his mother had given him his already-purchased birthday gift as a parting and be-well offering, right before he joined the Campbell and Singer expedition trying to find the lost world they believed they had rediscovered.

She wasn't happy with him for leaving so soon after coming back from England, where he had been sent by his newspaper fifteen months before, and she made it clear she thought of this expedition as a monumental mistake. But she had never been the kind of woman to try and demolish her son's dreams. She felt strongly that a man had to follow his destiny, wherever it might lead him, even though she may have been questioning Sam's interpretation of the where and how those dreams should take him. A lost, inaccessible plateau on top of a mountain chain with a reputation for killing nine out of ten explorers, somewhere in the depths of South America, was not her idea of a grounding destiny. Not for her gentle, scholarly son, the boy she had raised to think, study and have fun while making this world a better place.

She couldn't know that his living in London for more than a year, far from Boston and his well-known, well-ordered universe, had awakened in him many new feelings and longings. He hadn't been exactly thorough in his letters about his newfound love for sparring, a physicality he had never explored before in which he took joy and pride, or the times he had followed – and sometimes preceded – the police along difficult and dangerous investigations. He was still trying to process those different parts of himself and make a coherent total of them all when the opportunity to go on the Campbell-Singer expedition had been presented to him. It felt like the solution to a lot of questions and problems, including the fact that his boss in London, jealous of some of Sam's successful articles, had kept him on the bench for three months now and given the most interesting articles to lesser colleagues.

It was somewhat painful to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind, that a big part of himself was enjoying his time on the plateau more than anything he had ever done. Meg had offered him the use of her parents' library, so this need in him was equally sated. Sixteen years prior, although stranded just like they were now, the Masters expedition had managed to bring a lot more stuff than Sam and his fellow explorers, who had lost many of their belongings in the tribe's attack that had led them to run for their lives. Climbing into the hot-air balloon and taking off without proper preparation, most of Sam and his companions' possessions were left behind for the animals to eat or destroy. This was how the balloon had suffered its first damages, perforated with many arrows, but forceful gusts of wind had kept it up, lifting the conveyance always higher until lightning bolts had struck it repeatedly, crashing them thankfully on top of the mountain they were heading to, and not on the jagged and too straight side of the unending cliffs setting the plateau apart from the rest of the jungle below.

Meg's books were only one of the many reasons why they could call themselves lucky to find the woman. Sam's very life was saved by the apparition of a blonde and fair-skinned ghost pushing him out of the way of the most terrible beast he had ever had the displeasure to face. The scariest, too. Considering he had only dealt previously with his neighbor's dog and a small snake which was probably far more afraid than him, the comparison was not extremely telling, but the rows of three-inch-long teeth that had approached Sam far too closely before Meg's intervention still featured in most of his nightmares since then.

Reeling with the oxygen rarefaction on the high plateau that they weren't given much time to acclimate to before the attack, they had all been much slower back then. Even Winchester had looked unusually sluggish in his attempt to put himself between the dinosaur and Sam, panting while he was getting ready to shoot the big beast right in the head with one of the four rifles he had managed to salvage and bring with him, along with his own pistol and a great deal of cartridges. Luckily, Meg appeared from nowhere in her tiny tanned leather skirt and bra and managed to plant her long lance right through the beast's brain, killing it on the spot.

Since then, they had all pretty much well acclimated to the plateau, apart from the heat that could rise to levels Sam had never known before and felt like his brain was about to boil and leak between his ears. Professor Singer, though not the oldest, had the most trouble dealing with it. Professor Campbell and Lady Jenn had surprised Sam with their obvious adaptability – the professor had already traveled all around the world, and Lady Jenn had taken to lose a lot of her clothing, though not to the point of Meg's state of undress. Lord Winchester hadn't surprised him at all when he immediately trailed Meg to learn everything he could about the local dangers and the way to avoid or confront them and stay alive. But Sam had been amazed when Dean had agreed to teach him in his turn, clearly startled by his request, but Sam hadn't missed the flash of pride on his face that someone would ask him to share his expertise. Their relationship had begun to get better from that moment on. From both sides, as Sam had all but forgotten about his slightly manipulative plan to make Lord Winchester more sufferable and came to enjoy their budding friendship.

Still, Sam liked to spend time alone, and what better occasion than getting to know the area on his own despite Meg's warning. Sometimes, even the huge tree they were living in felt like a too-small cage. They had invaded Meg's space, the sizable, multi-roomed and open cabin built around the trunk by her parents and their friends when they had settled here, and Sam never wanted her to feel bad about her generosity. But still, he needed to get away now and then.

Sketching book in hand, he went down the Tree unnoticed, caring even less about his comrades' whereabouts, and decided to check one of the areas he hadn't visited yet. Quadrant by quadrant, his curiosity took him a little farther every time he managed to slip Meg or Winchester's surveillance. The fact that he had always come back in time and uninjured probably helped his two guardians to relax their stance. He was indeed prudent, if a little adventurous.

Which is why he shouldn't have felt too safe, even in the privacy of his own mind. Not in this place where dinosaurs were a current danger and not a threat of the past. If there were dinosaurs, really, what else could lurk around, ready to gobble him ?

He was more than two hours away from the Tree, lost in his thoughts and quite happy about the pieces and doodles he had already drawn, when he felt something brush past his ankle. He froze and looked down to see nothing but the ordinary soil covered with dead leaves and small plants. Just his imagination then.

But still something felt off, and he finally realized that he could hear nothing, no singing bird or screeching monkey, no answering roars of dinosaurs fighting in the distance ; the whole forest was by far too silent, as if waiting for a big event.

His survival instinct chose this moment to kick in and Sam hurried back, retracing his steps to get out of this chilling area. Fast. Twice, he got the same fleeting impression of some kind of prehensile object brushing his legs, and twice he ran harder and quicker to get back to the safety of the Tree and his fellow explorers.

Then, in the course of two seconds, he cried out and found himself hanging upside down, his right leg tightly gripped by a liana. He struggled and contorted himself until he reached it, but the thing was too thick, too strong and coiled too many times around his ankle and calf to get rid of it.

Focused on this unfair battle, Sam didn't notice when he was moved, explaining why he saw at the very last second the deep bowl-like cavity in which the liana plunged him. When he had first passed by it, Sam had mistakenly thought it was just the remnant of a dead tree, a rotting trunk slowly eaten by termites and other creepy-crawlies Sam didn't want to know about ; he had hardly given a thought to the fact that there seemed to be quite a lot of rotten trunks in this ostensibly devastated area. This was one of the biggest – big enough to accommodate a man his size and then some.

The liquid he was bathed in was so thick it hardly splashed around. Sam had read enough about biology and botany to know this didn't bode well and it probably was a very bad idea to stay here, more than half-immersed in the plant's juice. Even though his body was covered by his clothes, his hands, neck and head weren't and the pool of what he thought to be digestive juice would surely prove acidic enough for a man's skin to decompose if left too long in it.

He tried to climb the border, but between the liana still attached to his leg and the rows of minuscule, stinging hairs growing downwards, it was impossible to get a good grip on the trunk. He spotted some kind of gap, maybe used as an overflow in case of hard rains, and managed to secure his hands in it to ensure he wouldn't slip to the bottom of the cavity, some nine or ten feet below his own long body.

He couldn't escape alone and his only chance to survive was to last long enough in here to give time to the others to worry about him and send a rescue party. Which could still take a long while considering Sam had taken great pains to go unnoticed and left no clue about his direction. He decided to wait for some time before crying for help, to try and spare his voice as long as possible. As long as he had enough force left in him to fight the plant.

Hours passed so slowly that he was pretty sure he should have waited longer before he began yelling that he was here, and that he needed help. His voice resonated twice more than usual in the deep silence of the forest, but it also showed with despairing clarity how alone he was.

Night fell, and Sam's hope with it. He could only hang on for so long before he would drown, before he would fall asleep and sink to his death. Even if Dean and the others did find him, he would probably be half-digested already by then, a meal big enough to help this ugly plant to live for another thirty years at least. His mom had been right to tell him he was a fool to come here.

The hours stretched, silence disturbed only by the snap of a liana catching prey immediately followed by the squealing sounds of some animal who probably didn't have prehensile hands or the ability to swim as its struggle came to an end in a matter of seconds after it was pushed into a nearby pool of corrosive juice. Although Sam saw none of it in the deep darkness of the forest, any moonlight blocked by the thick canopy, the scene appeared twice scarier when it was all rendered through the lenses of his imagination and the very real fear for his own survival.

He was still alive by dawn, but he could feel himself weakening by the minute, his hands still grasping at the gap, but in his fewer and fewer moments of lucidity he could tell that it was more thanks to the cramps than sheer force. In the light of day, his clothes now clearly dissolved save for his boots, he was able to see the redness taking his skin up to his shoulders, anesthesia settling in to forbid any bit of feeling everywhere the juice surrounded him.

And suddenly he heard them.

"Sam ! Mr. Wesson ! Sam !"

Winchester first, and then Professor Singer. Feebly, he pushed his voice as high as possible to attract their attention, and this time the silence worked in his favor. He tried to warn them about the danger but soon the sound of a machete told him Dean had come prepared and he was fighting off the plants to reach Sam.

He didn't even feel the liana releasing his tied leg, just saw it falling next to him, lifeless and clean-cut. And then two pairs of hands were hauling him up outside of the cavity to dispose him on a carpet of cut-off lianas.

He couldn't move, hardly think.

"Thank you," he muttered, because even speech was difficult right now.

But he was alive, they had saved him, and hope was back with his friends.

"Look at his skin," he heard Dean say, remembering distantly and with a touch of amusement that he was naked – save for his boots.

"That's the effect of the carnivorous plant's juice, Mr. Winchester," Professor Singer answered. "Nothing we can't cure, I'm confident. I've seen some Carpobrotus along the way, we'll collect it on our way back. It's been used for centuries to treat skin conditions, small wounds or sunburn. I'm sure it will help our young friend to recover."

"Alright. And all these lianas are gonna come in handy in place of ropes to tie the makeshift stretcher I'm gonna build. Take care of him, I'll be quick."

Sam more or less followed Dean's movements by the noise he made tearing branches apart to build his stretcher. The professor used the time to help Sam drink from his gourd and then clean him with the dead leaves carpeting the forest ground.

"Water would most likely be better," he explained, "as I'm not sure what's in the juice you're covered with and if it's still active now that you're out of the pool. But we don't have enough of it. I'd prefer you to drink what we have, bit by bit, at regular intervals. So until we're back home we'll have to make do with these leaves, if you're in agreement, Mr. Wesson."

Sam smiled faintly. Anything that would help him get better was okay right now, especially if it didn't involve him moving in any way. He wanted to sleep for a week at least and forget his ordeal. Beyond the pain and the itching, beyond his terrible tiredness, he felt so safe with those two men watching over him.

He let the professor turn him over to clean his back and really lost consciousness through the gentle movements that seemed so similar to a massage, despite the pain awakening everywhere his skin had been cleaned up.

He jolted awake when his saviors joined forces to lift him onto the stretcher.

"Hey, princess," Dean joked, "your carriage is ready."

He was on his back this time, and Dean shed his vest to cover his nether regions and protect his modesty.

"Wouldn't want the ladies back home to swoon, would we ?" he winked at Sam.

"Thanks," Sam blushed, laughing and yawning at the same time.

He couldn't quite keep his grasp onto consciousness as they made their way through the forest, losing big chunks of time to a blissful state where pain held no power, brought back now and then by the men losing their footing on the uneven ground.

"Can we stop for a minute ?" Dean said as they reached the end of the field of carnivorous plants.

"I thought you'd never ask !" the professor replied, visibly more than relieved to be able to stop for a while and catch his breath. "Mr. Wesson is a quite heavy young man ! As heavy as he is tall."

They gently disposed the stretcher on the ground, making sure not to jostle Sam too much in the process. Both porters moved their arms every which way for a moment, quick workout after the unusual strain they had been submitted to, then Professor Singer found a rock to sit on while Dean dug out of a pocket a piece of white chalk and began to draw a skull on the bark of all the trees he could reach while keeping in view of Sam and the professor.

"I'm not sure your meaning will get through with all voyagers," Singer praised him when Dean came back, "but it's still a good idea."

"I've found in my travels that a few ideas get through everywhere, and whatever the language. This is one of the most common. And that's the best I can do. Hopefully, most of the tribes out there know the danger already."

Their next stop happened as soon as they found a stretch of the medicinal plant they would need for Sam's skin.

"This is interesting," the professor said as they were gathering the plants. "Carpobrotus originates from South Africa. One species acclimated to South America, and I guess birds brought the seeds up to the plateau."

"If you say so, Professor," Dean replied, visibly uninterested. "I'm just damn glad they're available to heal Sam !"

They took the time to use the first batch to squeeze the juice out of the leaves and slather Sam's whole body with it. Their own hands itched a bit after dipping them into the pool to draw Sam out and ridding his body of the remnants of the gooey liquid, and they were able to experience firsthand the benefit of the treatment. Sam seemed to enjoy too the sensation of renewed coolness, and his pain-filled moans diminished in frequency and level.

"Samuel, do you know this plant ?" the professor asked to distract his attention from the pain. "Its common name is pigface, or ice plant. In French, a species is called witch's claw, witch's fang, or even witch's finger. Don't ask me why ! I researched the fact to see if I could find some semblance of reality explaining this peculiar name, but no luck so far. The closest the English language comes to it is through a species called cat's claw, which is more easily explained and not as potentially dangerous. Anyway, you'll be happy to learn there doesn't seem to be anything witchy about this one. On the contrary, the juice of its leaves will help your skin heal faster and the pain will abate."

By some unspoken agreement, the professor avoided any particularly erogenous area on Sam's body when they began treating him, leaving to Dean the responsibility of dealing with his ass, upper chest and groin. Dean voiced no complaint, but when he grimaced at the sight and hot feeling of Sam's reddish though very limp cock, it was out of sympathy and no perverse leaning.

They gathered so much Carpobrotus to take back home that both men had to take off their shirts and tie them into a ragbag to collect it all. Dean wore the bundle on his back for the last leg of their trip while the professor kept what was left of Sam's boots – not easily replaceable here so they would try their best to salvage them – tied around his own neck by the remnants of their shoestrings, obviously good quality since they hadn't dissolved with the rest of his clothing.

Jenn was waiting for them impatiently as they returned to the Tree, the other two members of their group still out searching for Sam. The stretcher was discarded and Sam's arms passed around his porters' shoulders so that they could easily help him up to the cabin. The pulley-and-load-actioned lift felt like a benediction in this moment more than ever, able to take them up the Tree in less than a minute.

Jenn ran before them to prepare Sam's cot so that they could lay him down, then she brought a basin of clear water in answer to the professor's request, with which they all proceeded to clean him up more thoroughly. Sam hardly reacted through all of it, dead weight but an easy patient. He never realized that Meg and Professor Campbell were finally back, happy and relieved to find him there and with good chances of recovery.

Dean stayed awake that night, watching over the younger man's sleep, so deep that neither the next day dawning nor the continuous treatments managed to wake him up.

"What if the carnivorous plant's juice was poisonous ?" Dean voiced his worst fear aloud the next day, when he found himself alone in the bedroom with Professor Singer, save for Sam who had yet to regain consciousness.

"I don't think so, Mr. Winchester. I'm more worried about Mr. Wesson's generally weakened state. Truth is, Carpobrotus can only do so much. He's going to be in a lot of pain for some time. Best thing for him right now is to sleep it off, and I guess that's what he's going to do for most of the next two or three days. I just wish we could do more for him."

"What are you thinking of ?"

"Morphine, opium, or even willow bark to cure his predictable headaches and possibly reduce his fever."

"Maybe Meg knows where to find it, or something close anyway."

"Good idea, Mr. Winchester. Stay with Samuel, I'll go and ask her. If he wakes up, make him drink as much as possible."

Dean told himself repeatedly that sleep was Sam's best medicine but still he felt a lot better when this guy he had found often boring and annoying at first finally opened his eyes again while Dean was applying the treatment yet another time.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, how're you feeling ?"

He had never really given much attention to those eyes but he found himself studying their colors, the hazel and blue and green, their seductive shape. The absence of the usual glint revealing the sharp intelligence that had helped Sam to learn so fast and so well to deal with a deadly environment his previous life had never prepared him for felt like a disastrous loss.

Fortunately, from that moment on, Sam's health only got better and better, especially with the help of the willow bark.

"How do you feel ?" Dean wondered once more as Sam looked to the glassless window of their bedroom with undisguised envy, stuck as he was in his bed.

"Hot and itchy," he finally replied, trying to get over his severe case of cabin fever.

There were only so many hours in a day when he could stand looking at the osier-braided walls of his room before he felt like screaming.

"Still better than liquefied and digested, right ?"

"You don't say."

Dean asked Sam to turn over before he began to spread a new layer of soothing juice over Sam's skin.

"My head is killing me," Sam whined as he settled on his back.

"I'm sure that's the effect of Professor Singer's many lectures."

That got a smile out of Sam.

"Don't be so harsh with the poor man. Aren't you interested to know how this vegetative life-form could do that to me, a sentient and supposedly evolved being ? How the juice it uses to dissolve skin and bones works ? Wouldn’t you like to know if it might be the result of some flesh-eating bacteria, or something else entirely, some acid maybe ?"

"Not particularly. I'd prefer to know how to get rid of it so that your hide will never be at risk again."

"That's sweet of you, but very short-sighted. Besides, you would be very appreciative of the plant's power if it preyed on dinosaurs only."

"You got me there. We should use them as a trap. Attract one of the big beasts with a red flag, run till we get to one of those horror trunks and hope not to end up with the dino in the cavity."

Once Dean had finished applying the salve to his chest, Sam pushed up onto his arms and rested on his elbows to watch him work.

"Shit !" he exclaimed.

"What ?" Dean worried. "Did I hurt you ?"

"No," Sam replied in annoyance. "God, I just realized that damn juice ate all my hair !"

Dean burst into laughter as Sam watched him with outrage.

"Are you mocking me ?"

"No, no, Sam, I just had this image… Sorry, sorry, just don't talk like that in polite society."

There were only so many times Dean could talk seriously about juice without breaking into crude jokes. And now this !

"Do you really think I would talk about pubes in polite society ?!"

Dean snickered.

"I'm sure you were brought up like a gentleman. Even if you look like a plucked chicken right now."

Sam wanted to get angry but he just couldn't, laughter taking him to join Dean while the other man continued applying the cooling substance all over his itchy skin.

The next time Dean came to play nurse, he found Sam already awake and waiting for him, bored out of his mind. Reading was still difficult because of his headache, but he just couldn't sleep as much as in the first few days. Dean had kindly braved danger again to go fetch his sketchbook, forgotten in the depth of the forest, but it had been for naught so far. Sketching was still out of the question when the mere sight of convoluted drawings showing lianas and trunks could make Sam feel nauseous with the remembrance of his adventures, not to mention the fact that his drawing hand shook too much with weakness to achieve anything worth doing in the first place.

Dean took pity. Instead of going back to whatever task he had been enjoying out in the sun, the hunter went to fetch a deck of cards and stayed to play gin rummy until Sam fell asleep again.

 

_May 2nd_

_Dean asked Lady Jenn to prepare a cake for me – what looked mostly like a cake anyway, made out of local ingredients – and he brought it to me decorated with some kind of straw planted in its middle, to which he set fire right before he exclaimed "Happy birthday !"_

_I was so surprised I almost let the cake burn, the straw consumed much quicker than I thought._

_I guess Professor Campbell told them about my upcoming birthday but I had to explain to my roommate turned nurse that this is not the real date, just the one when I was found alone and crying, waiting in a slum for my missing mom. The date when my adoptive mother took me in and offered me a second chance at life._

_Dean said he didn't care. For all intents and purposes, this is my birthday and I shouldn't let it pass without celebrating._

_He might be right after all. Without him and Professor Singer, I wouldn't be here today to enjoy life and the third chance I've been offered._

_The cake was delicious._

Two weeks later and Sam felt definitely better. He had done nothing but rest for the last few days, coddled and helped by everyone to a perfect healed state. The group had authorized him to walk to the dining room or the walkway circling the cabin only within the past three days, previously making sure he didn't exert himself too much by bringing his meals directly to the bedroom and visiting him one after the other to encourage his recovery and keep boredom at bay.

As he was reading at the dinner table, enjoying the opportunity to dress again entirely and his freedom of movements, a strange young man, as skimpily dressed as Meg, suddenly appeared in the living room, so silently that Sam did a double take when he found himself staring into dark, menacing eyes. He stumbled to his feet when he realized the newcomer had a long, dangerous-looking knife in each of his hands and that his expression was murderous.

Then Meg appeared next to him, followed by a just-as-murderous Lord Winchester aiming his rifle at the stranger. Meg put herself between the two men, trying to get them to put their weapons down.

"Everybody calm down !" she said in a strong, no-nonsense voice.

"Who is that ?" Sam asked, his heartbeat slowly returning to a more sedate rhythm now that he was not alone and unarmed anymore.

"My friend Guyel. Did he scare you ?" Meg retorted with a smile. "Or maybe you are jealous, pretty boy."

Sam blushed and frowned. He didn't feel attracted to Meg any more than he believed she was to him. Probably too female, as her non-clothed ways showed so well. He had never been interested that much in girls, or sexual relationships. Not enough free time, too many matters to study. Possibly some kind of fear to get involved, to fall in love, and to lose that person ultimately. The one girl he had felt something for, Jess Moore, had died in awful and mysterious circumstances, teaching Sam once again the value of detachment by making it clear that he couldn't keep in his life the women important enough to impact it, just like his probably deceased biological mother. The decision to leave for the UK and put some distance between him and his adoptive mom had quite a bit to do with his will to protect her.

And he was beginning to suspect (read : had already concluded) that other kinds of temptations might do it more for him anyway. So he certainly wouldn't admit in front of Winchester that he had really been afraid for a little while. Or that seeing the hunter ready to deal with the threatening intruder had reassured him tremendously. Not to mention that the vision of Dean Winchester, armed and deadly, always turned him hot and bothered. Even his short, black-skinned and very unfriendly opponent was a sight to behold with his compact, lean but strong body on display.

But he had a reputation to maintain, a mask to protect.

"More like pissed," he half-lied to Meg. "Did your friend ever hear about knocking on the door and saying hello ?"

"Not really a custom of his people," Meg shrugged.

"I thought you had been alone since your parents' death ?" Winchester enquired in a deceptively soft tone.

Startled again, Sam took in the hunter's wariness and realized he was right ; Meg had lied about that part of her life.

"Mostly, yes," she answered. "There are many tribes on the plateau, and none of them like very much the people they call the 'all-dressed invaders,' but I would have gone crazy if I never got to meet and talk with other human beings. Guyel is one of those friends. His father doesn't want him to spend time with me so until Guyel becomes chief of his tribe after Uriel has passed, he just comes by every time he can get away with it."

Sam felt Winchester relax at last, satisfied with Meg's explanations. The girl went to her friend and assured him too that everything was alright. Even then, it was clear that Guyel – or Guy, as Meg called him – didn't trust the foreigners that had invaded Meg's cabin through the wary glances he kept sending them, as distrustful as the ones Winchester sent back.

Winchester who never really lost sight of the native man in the few steps it took him to approach Sam.

"You alright there, Sammy ? The guy didn't hurt you before we came in ?"

Sam was just as stunned by the use of the childish diminutive as the obvious and public worry.

"He didn't have time to harm me," he responded, privately wondering why he hadn't forbidden the lord to call him Sammy just like he had with his family and friends many years ago. Probably because it didn't feel contrived, or condescending.

"We're going to leave you two alone," Sam offered to Meg, pushing Dean out of the room with him, "so that you can spend some quality time without the two of us interrupting your conversation."

Winchester protested a bit, clearly unhappy at the idea of leaving the stranger to Meg's watch. But it was easy for Sam to make him forget about it when he mentioned he wanted to go back outside at last, Dean unwilling to let him wander around unsupervised.

It felt so good to be out again, to walk without banging against a wall after ten steps at the most. Even if Dean kept trying to make him sit and rest, made sure his still sensitive skin was well protected against the harsh rays of the burning sun, so protective that he didn't even make up an excuse to leave when they crossed Professor Campbell's path and endured the older man's presence for about ten minutes before he dragged Sam away.

Sam didn't really know how but he found himself back up the Tree thanks to Dean's persuasion as soon as Guyel left, and distracted enough by Meg's suggestion that they go looking for groceries.

"We're going to need to trade for a lot of things now that it seems you're stuck here for a while. Guy used to bring me most of what I needed and couldn't get on my own, but it won't suffice anymore. We need fabrics at the very least, so that you each get a change of clothes, and flour, grains, soap… so many basic things I can't even think about right now !"

"Do you know where we can go and what we can trade ?" Dean asked.

"Guy suggested we go to the Tapuil. The tribe is mostly women, children and old people now, after the men went to war with their neighbors and most of them never came back. They sure could use the temporary help of four strong men. What do you say ?"

"Your friend's tribe couldn't help them ?"

"He wanted to, almost left with their shaman when he decided to go, but Uriel refused."

"Let me guess : Uriel doesn't like other tribes either."

"I don't usually speak ill of a dying man so I won't comment. But our help would mean a lot to them."

"So it's a deal. Let's pack and get there as soon as we can."

"Better wait for the morning, we'll have to walk a good six or seven hours to reach the Tapuil."

"Alright. Sam, you're okay with the plan ?"

Sam was grateful for the way Dean put it, hiding his concern for his health being good enough that he would be able to walk that far.

"Absolutely."

"Good. So I'm gonna talk to Professor Singer and Jenn, will you go to Campbell ?"

"Okay."

Talking twice to Campbell in a day was obviously too much of a hardship for Dean to remember he didn't want Sam to go around alone.

Everyone came into agreement as soon as the project was explained, as well as with the plan to leave first thing the next morning.

They were about to leave, packs ready since before they went to sleep and breakfast already done, when Dean stopped Sam.

"Sam, wait !"

"What ?" he replied with a bit of impatience.

It was more than time to go and he couldn't wait to stretch his legs for more than a few minutes at once.

"I have something for you," Dean explained. "Here, take it."

Dean was holding in his hand a long knife in its leather sheath and Sam looked at him with surprise.

"You hide it under your clothes," Dean continued. "Your pants are too tight but the shirt should do it."

"But you might need it," Sam protested.

"No worries, I have the machete. Never go without the knife, you never know when it might come in handy."

"Thanks, Dean. It's quite thoughtful of you."

"Well, it might save your life. It might even save mine if I'm incapacitated and I need you to pull your weight. So I repeat, don't lose it. And now let's go."

They left right after, following Meg's directions and Campbell's compass, alert for dinosaurs and any other kind of danger, but the few beasts they saw were distant enough to be able to slink away without being seen or smelled.

The Tapuil seemed wary upon their arrival, but they changed attitude and welcomed them warmly as soon as they heard their proposal. They offered a small cabin to shelter them all during their stay, which was quite nice but made privacy even more of an issue than usual, especially as they had to share with another visitor. Sam couldn't say he really minded during the first days, though, not when he fell asleep in the second following his body lying on the ground. It was clear he was still recovering from his adventures.

Castiel, the shaman of Guyel's tribe, had braved Uriel's orders to come and offer his help to the Tapuil. Body hidden behind a long beige tunic down to his knees, the man was kind of weird, ignorant of common rules like the need to respect someone else's personal space or to avoid staring at your interlocutor, and yet friendly enough. They were all surprised to discover that he could speak English, albeit a little formally, having learned it through his dealings with the Masters expedition, and then in the books lent to him by the explorers.

His relationships with everyone were cordial bordering on bland, except for Dean who seemed to enjoy teasing him out of his usual sternness. Sam didn't really know what to make of the lord's attitude, until he caught them one night seated by the fire, talking about their life experiences.

"I don't understand," Castiel said, "if you're the head of your clan, why you are here instead of leading your people."

Dean snorted.

"My people, as you put it, are dead, or very able to lead themselves. Lord is just a title I inherited from my father, who got it himself from a distant ancestor from another country who passed away without closer descendants. Dad took us to England, hoping we could begin a new life, but instead we lost everything. I'm the last survivor of my family. Friends take care of the house and the domain for me when I'm away."

"But this is your land, your heritage."

"Trust me, it doesn't mean that much when you have no one to share it with."

"Then why don't you have anyone ?"

"I told you, man, my parents and my brother are gone. I'm a family of one."

"Yet I can see every day that you're a born leader. You don't defer to the older men of your temporary clan, and I'm quite aware of the way ladies are interested in you among the tribe, the young ones as well as the widows. Little Shez, for example, would be more than delighted if you suggested that she share your life and become part of your tribe."

"You saw that, Mr. Shaman, did you ?"

"I did. I'm a spiritual advisor, I have to be cognizant of my people's desires."

Sam had seen that too, and he had tried with Meg's help to warn the girl that Dean wouldn't stay. Professor Campbell had made sure to tell them all about the lord's reputation and Dean himself made no mystery of his strong interest in the fairer sex. So Sam refused to let any Tapuil woman fall prey to his beautiful eyes and seductive smile. Even though Meg had declined to translate Shez's exact answer to his well-meaning advice, the girl's anger and her tone had made quite clear what she thought of Sam's intervention. She still ignored him a few days later.

"This is all a dream she's indulging in," Dean commented. "The seduction of novelty, but she doesn't know me at all. The poor girl would be totally miserable in my country and probably unwelcome in most places. I could never make her happy and she'll realize it sooner or later. And what about you, man ? Are shamans allowed to take a wife in your tribe ? Would the terrible Uriel agree to your union ?"

"Marriage is a major decision in a man's life, one a shaman can't take lightly, for he has to care not only for his companion, but for all his tribe's needs. I would have to find someone willing to assist me in my ministry. I should also factor in my preference for the male form, which is what Uriel might frown upon, but it would ultimately remain my choice. So far, you're the first one to make me think of this most important topic in relation to myself."

Sam decided it was time to make his presence known.

"Hey, there," he saluted them as he approached the fire. "Got a place for me ?"

"Absolutely, Samuel. Come sit with us."

As Sam sat down between the men, Castiel offered him some leva, the common drink used around these parts by those who didn't feel like drinking water, a strong flavor of chicory mixed with tonic. The conversation turned less personal and Castiel decided to go to bed once he began yawning.

"The day has been long, my friends. I'll see you two on the morrow."

Dean and Sam saluted him with good-night wishes and fell silent again after his departure.

"I thought you'd sleep with Shez," Sam suddenly said, not embarrassed to let it slip that he had been eavesdropping for a while.

"Yeah," Dean answered with a smile, "she's a sweet, pretty girl. Another time, another place… maybe I'd give it a thought. But she's after more than fun and the last thing she needs right now is some stranger seducing her and then disappearing, possibly leaving her with a bun in the oven. It would be kind of difficult to get parental visitation once I'm back home. And I'm not the kind of sailor to pinpoint the memory of his travels with a kid in every port. Not to mention that I'm not that much into virgins."

Sam hid his grimace by taking a sip of his leva.

"Want to play a game ?" he changed the subject.

They didn't have much in the way of entertainment here in the village, save for the deck of cards Sam had remembered to bring. The professors might have been decent players but they rarely indulged. Meg didn't like the games that much, and Sam still felt uneasy when alone with Lady Jenn. Which left only Winchester, who liked to play but was too impatient and playful to take it seriously, unless there was a deal at stake. Then he morphed into a shark – a pouting, sore loser of a shark every time Sam won. Which was even more fun as Sam mocked him mercilessly.

He couldn't wait to make Dean swallow his teasing grin.

 

_May 16th_

_When Professor Campbell asked him, full of scorn, if he had ever learned something about agriculture on his vast domain, Dean replied he had been too busy having sex with women to learn anything else._

_This is exactly why I have such a hard time trusting him, try as I might, and even though I can see he's much more learned – in agriculture as in many other topics – than he would like us to believe. I don't understand him. Why he wants us all to underestimate him. Don't understand his constant frivolity, his impertinence towards the professors. Don't understand why he winks at me regularly, as if to share with me some joke I'm not aware of._

_Lately though, I must say that I really don't like his new friendship with Castiel. I guess I'm afraid he will abuse the poor guy's trust in some way._

After three weeks of hard labor out in the fields and here in the village, Sam was incredibly tired and happy when it was time – finally ! – to get back to the Tree and leave the Tapuil to fend for themselves. They assembled to say their goodbyes on a clear morning. The former leader's wife had a gift for them all to add to the goods they had traded for, gathered in rough cloth bags they would each carry on their back, as well as a speech that Meg translated.

"She said that we could stay here. We're welcome to become a part of this tribe if we want, all of us or individually."

They looked at each other, startled at the unexpected invitation.

"Tell them we can't," Campbell said without even bothering to ask for their opinion as he added a strong "No !" in the plateau's language, one of the few words they all knew by now.

"Tell them we're honored by their offer," Sam added quickly, "but we have our own projects, and we can't postpone them anymore."

Meg opened her mouth to translate but Dean cut her off.

"Tell them also that, should we still be here the next time they need men for the hard work, we'll be happy to help them again."

It was hard to believe they would all be so happy considering Professor Campbell's surly expression, but Meg translated anyway. The Tapuil were disappointed by their answer, it was made clear by their own forlorn expression, and none more so than Shez who seemed to cling to Dean more than ever until they departed for good.

The trip back home went smoothly at first, but they had to change their course when they reached a river they had easily passed on the other way but was now overflowing after a recent storm.

Meg was ill at ease, and even Castiel seemed more alert than ever, clearly searching for any sign of danger. Everyone picked up on their attitude, especially Winchester who took his rifle in hand, ready to shoot.

They recognized the hissing sound before they even heard Professor Campbell cry out, his right shoulder pierced by an arrow that had come from somewhere behind. They all began to run without prompting, Singer helping Campbell every time he stumbled under the pain.

They changed course again and again, each time they could see another attacker ready to aim at them, hindered by the obligation to stay all together ; they knew that if one of them got separated from the group, they would likely be dead in a heartbeat.

It felt like they were running forever. Dean stopped to shoot at their assailants when any of the explorers fell behind and looked out particularly for Jenn and Sam. Judging from the cries of pain, he did strike at least twice. But more attackers seemed to come from everywhere behind the trees and bushes and the arrows kept hissing past them with increasing frequency.

Luck was with them, ensuring that no one else was injured. They thought they would manage to hide and get away when they found themselves running through some kind of alley made of thick bushes where their pursuers wouldn't be able to attack them anymore. The path, funnel-shaped, led to a small clearing obviously dug by the hands of men ; they saw it for the trap it was when they took in the walls blocking their advance, a big circle of more than nine-foot-high logs planted right in the hard soil, but it was already too late to go back.

The doors made of thick branches and leaves they hadn't seen in due time either closed behind them.

"No, no, no !!" Meg cried, hitting the door with her hands multiple times to try and get it to open again. "This is not good ! We have to get away from here now !!"

"What is it you're afraid of, my dear ?" Singer asked, out of breath.

"I'm pretty sure the men we saw are from the Walli tribe," she explained, Castiel nodding at her words. "They're not really concerned about the origin of their meat as long as it's well-done on the outside and I think we've just been added to the menu."

Sam followed Winchester's gaze to take in the mattress of twigs they were standing on, which was covered by some gooey substance, suddenly realizing that only one spark would be necessary to light it all aflame. Then their eyes met and some kind of communication seemed to pass between them, impossible to translate into actual words but just as effective. They could help each other.

"Sam," Dean said, very aware they had to act right now before the fire began, "give me a lift over the wall and I'll open up that door as soon as I'm on the other side."

"Better yet, I go with you in case there's more than one of those Walli guys waiting for an escape, so you can fight them while I open the door and then I help you if need be."

"I don't think they were more than four or five. Beaters who know the terrain much better than us so that they were able to follow or precede us easily, and to force us right where they wanted without giving their trap away. They're good with a bow, I have to give them that, but I'm pretty sure they're not particularly trained for fighting."

"Even then, it's still too much for just one man. I can help."

Dean considered him with a frown.

"You feel ready for this ?"

"I am."

"Okay then, let's go."

Singer gave a lift to Dean, while Campbell tried to negotiate with Sam to take his place but the older man's injured shoulder made this a non-option, for which Sam was glad. He was just as eager to prove himself in front of Dean as he wanted to be a part of the action.

With Castiel's help, he arrived on the other side to find Dean already fighting off three Walli warriors, landing blows and catching a few. He entered the brawl and quickly came to the sad conclusion that he couldn't follow the gentleman's rules his formal boxing training had taught him, because no one here did it. No holds barred was the actual rule, which meant that, coupled with their height and weight and the injuries bullets had previously inflicted, Dean and he got the upper hand in the fight, though the little Walli guys were wiry and agile and they managed to cause a bit of harm, especially to Sam's face which would certainly be sporting a nice shiner soon.

The other explorers didn't idly wait for Dean and Sam to open the cage, trying instead to push most of the twigs and combustible substance far towards one side of their prison walls. They were mostly successful, until a burning arrow passed right by Jenn's head, missing her by a few inches and setting the ground aflame.

Jenn jumped back but it was too late, her pant skirt catching fire immediately. Meg was on her in the next moment, using what was left of the water in her gourd to extinguish the flames, imitated by the professors while Castiel pushed Jenn out of the main fire's way.

Through the brouhaha coming from the cage, giving away the fact the fire had been set and was gaining strength, Dean and Sam suddenly heard a woman's cries of distress – Jenn's voice for sure – and they redoubled their efforts to finish it here to help their trapped friends.

Enemies dispatched, Sam went to the cage's doors and used his knife to cut the cord tying them closed, which Dean recycled to tie their three opponents' wrists together. Sam helped the others rush out of the cage far from the fire. Meg pushed Jenn to the ground and rolled her over to extinguish the last flames still gripping the long and roomy legs of her skirt.

"Jenny !" Dean yelled before he ran and kneeled next to her and then held her, cradling her body against his. "Sweetheart, are you injured ?"

"I'm good, baby, don't worry. It's just a very mild burn."

She demonstrated her good enough well-being by standing up on her own, as much as Dean and Meg let her anyway.

"I'm so sorry I was too late to stop him."

"I saw you, Dean," Meg said. "You saved her life, the arrow was meant straight for her neck."

Dean and Jenn looked at each other and no words were necessary to express the love and relief they shared.

"Are you boys alright too ?" professor Singer asked as he was bandaging Campbell's wound after taking the arrow out.

"Never better !" Dean answered with a lopsided smile while he was shaking his bloody and clearly hurting right hand.

Everybody smiled at him in return, except Professor Campbell, too intent on cataloguing Sam's bruises even after he had confirmed being well too.

"He's been hurt !" he exclaimed, turning to Dean. "I told you he shouldn't go, but you let him do it. This is all on you."

"My God, old man, chill out. Sam is safe. This is nothing more than what boys suffer when they grow up and learn to defend themselves."

"Maybe that's normal for someone like you, but Sam is too important to risk his life in common fisticuffs."

"Well, that's nice. And you'll excuse me for finding it very out of character that you care for a stranger in such a blatant way, when all those years you were not even capable of showing a shred of interest for your own grandson."

"You need only take a look at that grandson to understand my attitude."

"You're just a big dick," Dean answered, his eyes shooting daggers.

Most of the group had gone still at the huge and so unexpected revelation. Not Lady Jenn, though.

"That's quite enough, Professor. You've made your petty and narrow-minded opinion abundantly clear over the years, we certainly don't need to hear it again."

"And you know," Dean continued, "you've been nothing but a pain in my ass since Sam's sickness. As if I was somehow responsible for what happened to him. Now this ! It's more than time that you realize Sam is an adult, and a very capable one."

"I've learned how to spar, Professor," Sam added to defuse the situation. "I can hold my own in a fight. Now we should go before more of these guys come to see what's happening with their dinner."

"Sam is right," Castiel intervened. "I don't know what this abrasive discussion is about but I'm sure it is both ill-timed and unnecessary. Let's go."

Properly chastised, everyone retrieved the bags of goods they had been carrying and followed the shaman on the way back home, Dean taking the rear to protect the group and make sure no other bad surprise would catch them unaware.

"Is it true what Dean said ?" Sam asked when his steps brought him near Professor Campbell. "You were that worried about me after my encounter with the carnivorous plant ?"

"I was, son. Ellie would have my head if something bad happened to you. She made me promise to take care of you."

"It's extremely nice of you to be looking out for me, Professor, but Dean's right. I'm not a kid anymore and I can take care of myself. I have to take initiatives and help this expedition, do my part just like anyone else here. And I can make my own mistakes without pinning them on someone else. It's part of becoming a man, isn't it ?"

"It is, but your mother…"

"My mother," Sam stopped him right there, "is like any other mother in the world, she wants her son safe at home. But she also knows that's not who I am and I will only ever be happy if I get to see the world and learn to fit in it, whatever way it might take."

"I hear you, Sam, but I never want to have to visit her to announce your death."

"All I ask is that you have faith in me. I've learned so much since our journey began, and I'm learning more every day thanks to all of you."

"Alright, I'll try, if you promise me to be cautious."

"I'll try too, that's a promise."

They both got back into the line and walked silently.

"Do we need to prepare for the return of the cannibals ?" Dean asked when they stopped for a moment to refill their gourds in a river. "Will they follow us ?"

"I don't think so," Castiel answered before Meg had time to. "They are very territorial and they only snatch prey coming onto their land. It is sacred to them and they will not leave it to catch us. We are in no danger from them as long as we don't cross their territory again."

The last stop before the Tree was Castiel's tribe. Guyel welcomed them first, but soon they had the displeasure to meet the infamous Uriel.

"You _gunso_ are not welcomed here," the chief threw at them with a heavy accent.

Then he turned to Castiel exclusively and berated him for a long while in their own language.

"I guess I don't want to know what gunso means ?" Dean asked Meg.

Her grimace was all the answer he needed, especially when she translated some of Uriel's never-ending sermon to Castiel, every punishment he would get for leaving his tribe despite Uriel's orders and being away for so long when his people needed him.

"I see Uriel's as big a dick as I was told," Dean concluded when the man stopped his rant. "And you can translate that."

"I don't think it will be necessary, Dean," Castiel responded, both amused and embarrassed when Uriel's stare quit him to land on Dean. "Your meaning got through perfectly."

"Great, his got through too."

The two men stood still, their eyes conveying something between contempt and hatred mixed with provocation on Dean's part.

"Dean, come on," Sam said, pulling on his arm. "It's not worth the hassle and I'm tired, I want to go home."

Dean turned to him and watched his face, reading his exhaustion and the need for a long rest. Then he examined Jenn and saw the exact same need.

"Okay," he agreed, deciding to ignore Uriel for his friends' sake. "Let's go home."

Dean took only a few steps before he went back to Castiel.

"You'll be alright here ? Sure you don't wanna come with us ?"

Sam stopped on the spot, willing Castiel to refuse Dean's proposition for no reason he could understand.

"Do not worry yourself, Dean," the shaman answered. "My place is here, with my people."

"Okay, but don't be a stranger."

"I'm sure we will meet again soon. Goodbye, Dean."

_May 30th_

_I'll talk about what happened on the way back later. I have much more important news before._

_Big news !_

_Lord Winchester and Professor Campbell are related. Dean is the professor's grandson._

_The journalist in me is ashamed that he didn't see that one coming. But to be honest, their very palpable rivalry and dislike, as well as the care they take of not talking to each other if they can avoid it, would make it difficult for anyone to guess. Their names are different and they don't look alike. One comes from America, the other from Great Britain. One is a renowned scholar, the other a reputed sportsman. They could hardly be more diverse in their views and life goals._

_They've made it quite obvious there's no love lost between them. I don't know what happened to their family to make them such enemies, but my curiosity won't let me rest until I find out what it is that Dean did to get there. I can't imagine the professor being responsible, not after all the kindness and care he shown me since we met._

_But maybe I can help them get past this situation while they're stuck here and I'm beginning to become friends with Dean._

Sam hadn't done any research about the professor prior to their departure, convinced that he knew already the important details about the man's academic knowledge and stature, his ethics, kindness and interest towards Sam these past years.

He had vaguely checked Winchester's credentials, certain that the man was a show-off and that he would only be helpful in case muscles or rifles were needed. His reputation was one of a reveler, a bon vivant who loved nothing more than women, tasty food and alcohol, who tended to throw his money without restraint into the pursuit of these objectives, a hedonist constantly seeking pleasure.

Lady Jenn hadn't even deserved any real investigation either, Sam was so sure her only contribution would be monetary and that she'd never travel with them.

As time passed and the feud between Dean and the professor became more evident, Sam was just as much annoyed with himself for his lack of precaution, especially now that he was aware of the familial roots of the dissension. He could have asked Lady Jenn. After all, one of the few things he had learned about her since their arrival was that she had known Dean previous to the journey. But it also meant she would be just as biased towards Dean as he himself was towards the professor.

"Don't beat yourself up, Sam," Professor Singer had insisted when they had talked about it, chopping wood to heat the meal they would bring up the Tree. "I too let myself be blinded by Campbell's attitude towards his grandson. As much as I dislike the man at times, he's brilliant and driven and I allowed these qualities to mask his possible skewed relationship to his own family, accepting his judgment over Winchester without really trying to reach for the truth. I should have known though. Dean showed us from the beginning he was deserving of our trust. Let this be our lesson and move on."

Singer was right. Dean had proved himself again and again but it seemed it was never enough, not compared to the professor's brilliant achievements in their old world. The truth was that, so far, they owed being alive a lot more to Dean and Meg than the professors.

As he finished washing, Sam told himself that the important thing from now on was to be more open-minded and accepting of Dean's quirks and not to let Professor Campbell's opinion color his own.

Sam got out of the lake entirely naked before he realized that the lord was there waiting for him, casually leaning on a tree trunk, as if his thoughts had somehow conjured the hunter.

"Were you waiting for me ?"

He couldn't recall making any plans about shooting exercises or a hunting party.

"Yeah," Winchester answered nonchalantly, still not moving from his tree. "Campbell thinks he's found something possibly promising in one of Meg's books."

"What about ?" Sam asked, immediately interested as he approached Dean and the towel waiting next to his abandoned clothes.

"A way out, it seems. Or at least some clue about an ancient path."

Sam stopped drying himself to scrutinize Dean's face.

"Really ?"

"Well, that's what he said, anyway. Singer is not quite sure about it, so I'd like you to take a look and give me your opinion."

"My opinion ?!" Sam repeated, nonplussed. "Why ?"

"You've gone to college and you speak Latin ; you're smart. Also, you're new to all this, you'll look at it with a fresh set of eyes, without blinders or preconceived ideas."

Sam had a weird feeling. There was no amusement in Dean's voice this time over Sam's abilities, or the lack thereof, no contempt at all. The arrogant lord was definitely reaching out to him, seeking his professional expertise and putting him at the same level as two world-famous professors.

More than weird, it was wonderful to be acknowledged for your own worth. And he could feel a huge smile on his face as he basked in the sensation for a long while before he realized he was standing still on a beach, naked, in front of a just as still Lord Winchester.

"What are you looking at ?" he asked, unnerved by the fixity of Dean's stare.

Lord Winchester's answer first took the form of a lecherous grin.

"You," he finally said. "Your manhood, precisely. Quite impressive !"

No trace of shame at all.

It had happened that Sam had had to disrobe and bathe next to other boys as he was growing up, especially during the summer vacations in the small town his mother's father lived in, spending the too-hot afternoons swimming at the local pond, but never had he imagined that he could attract one of the guys back then, as much as he might have wished for it, and never had he been propositioned. Dean's behavior was new and bemusing for him, so different from the detached attitude he had used while he was helping with his treatment.

And this time Sam couldn't ignore anymore which part of his anatomy attracted Dean's gaze the most. His partially erect cock.

"You're creepy, Dean !"

"And you're pretty."

Sam blushed.

Well, if the lord thought he was going to get a rise – in any sense of the word – out of him that way, he was sorely mistaken ! Sam knew the man thought he was too soft, too naïve, too nice and well-mannered for this expedition, but Sam had long decided he would show him that he could hold his own and take anything thrown at him, leering gazes and salacious remarks included. He knew his body to be well-developed and strong, certainly no cause to blush or hide. Not more than the brain Dean had just admitted to admire enough that he wanted Sam's opinion !

And certainly not now that he didn't resemble a plucked chicken anymore.

He probably should have felt a lot more freaked out but the stare was actually nice, Dean's admiration for his body just as pleasant as the praise for his brains, and Sam didn't hurry to re-dress, any possible clue about their leaving mostly forgotten. It probably didn't amount to more than a false hope anyway, another one, a detail that might help them later on but didn't show the way any more than the other hints they had heard of or read about.

So Sam didn't hurry this time nor any of the numerous other ones when Dean surprised him during his morning bath after that first time. It became a daily occurrence Sam looked forward to, the moment when Dean didn’t need to preen for the women or show off his manliness to the professors, the real Dean Winchester here at last to meet Sam. This is how they got into the habit of private discussions in those few reserved minutes.

But as Dean quickly took to join Sam in the water, Sam in his turn couldn't help watching him naked, admiring of his very different frame, less muscled, shorter but more compact, and probably just as strong. The broad shoulders and surprisingly harmonious back, the enticing chest, the long, proud sex and heavy balls he found himself dreaming of one night, weighing and stroking. And sucking.

That got a rise out of him.

As the days passed, they moved closer and closer, personal space diminishing more and more until it meant next to nothing in those private moments.

"Do you want me to help wash your back ?" Dean asked from behind.

"What… only if you'd like to," Sam said, a bit stunned by the offer but strangely excited.

"Alrighty then, pass me the soap."

Sam acted without any thinking, proper or not, passing the soap over his shoulder for Dean to use it.

Soon, two strong hands applied themselves to his back, roaming to take in all the space over and between his shoulders. The foamy texture of the soap masked easily any callus on Dean's hands and Sam couldn't help shuddering through the delicious feeling.

He had never been touched like that.

He wouldn't admit to it in front of Dean, not for all the money in the world, but he had never found anyone attractive enough to let go of his aloofness. Then Dean Winchester came around and he brought down every one of Sam's insecurities and plans. Including his wish to keep himself for the right person. The one who would understand him and be happy for the gift of Sam's trust and virginity.

He felt he _should_ say something when the hands began to stroke his ass and the sensation was just too good.

"I can reach there," he lamely objected, not sure at all why he shouldn't enjoy this pleasure freely offered.

"I bet you can. But I can reach better," Dean answered, his lips closer to Sam's ear than expected. "Make sure you're all clean, everywhere. Besides, isn't it so much nicer to let someone else take care of you ?"

Dean's fingers broke into his ass' cleft, gently descending along the virgin line and tying Sam's tongue in the process, all the more when a fingertip found his hole and began to massage it. Another finger soon replaced it, coated with soap and pushing against Sam's quivering sphincter.

"You feel so good," Dean murmured, his lips brushing Sam's neck.

A long moan escaped Sam's throat as the finger slowly entered him. Eyes closed, he was able to imagine Dean's head bent to look down at his ass, watching his own fingers through the clear water penetrating Sam with no resistance at all.

He felt his dick throbbing like mad as Dean's brushed against his ass, hard and hot, pushing to make its place between his cheeks too.

"I've dreamed this moment so many times," Dean continued as his fingers probed deeper, touching something inside of Sam that had him crying out with pleasure. "Imagined how you smelled, how you felt, how you moaned, and I wanted it all."

Between words, Dean's lips tasted his shoulders and then went back to his neck, up to his jaw. Sam began to turn his head, needing to be kissed right now, to taste in his turn and feel himself invaded and owned everywhere.

"Samuel !" his name resounded and jolted him back to the here and now.

Professor Campbell was on the beach, waving his arms to catch his attention and urge him to come back to the shore immediately.

Sam's first reaction was to detach from Dean to hide what they were doing, whimpering when he felt the other man's fingers slide out of him. He missed the sensation already but he just couldn't stay there and make love in front of such an audience. Thankfully, his erection had already abated and he wouldn't make a show of himself by getting out of the water.

Dean caught up with him as they stepped on the beach, heading to their towels and clothes.

"Tonight," he said with a secretive caress of his open palm along Sam's back, "we'll be alone again, we'll pick up from where he interrupted us. I can't wait."

Sam avoided his gaze lest he would forget about the professor and fall back into Dean's arms. He dried himself quickly and sent Dean a small, shy smile as he finished putting his clothes back on and headed back to where Samuel Campbell was still waiting for them.

As he passed next to him, the professor grabbed his arm and kept him back, looking more than serious. Almost angry.

"A word with you, Sam, if you will."

Sam nodded to Dean to tell him it was okay and the other man continued on his way to the Tree.

Professor Campbell waited to be sure Winchester was far enough and unable to hear their conversation before he turned to Sam without letting go of his arm.

"Sam," he began in a low, soothing tone, "I know Dean has been there for you a lot since we've been stranded, and that he helped and taught you many things. He's been around the world a few times and surely, to a positive young man like you who's still finding himself, his qualities make him look like a mature, reliable mentor. Dean's a great hunter, he's seemingly fearless and ready to do anything for you."

"I'm sure those are qualities he inherited from you."

"One would think so, wouldn't they ?"

"Absolutely. You know I've relied a lot on you during my studies. I'm sure it was the same for Dean growing up, and that even through your disagreements, he still looks up to you."

"Yes, well, maybe it would be more apparent if he acted a bit more like his mother, or more like you... But he's just like his father, stubborn and shallow, a military man marching to the sound of his own drill, no imagination or finesse. A complete waste of air."

"You're talking about your grandson, Professor !" Sam said, shocked by the sudden and vehement hostility.

"I'm talking about a man whose moral fiber is nonexistent next to his own interest."

"What are you trying to tell me, Professor ?"

"This : be careful, boy. My grandson is not called the Hunter for nothing."

"What do you mean ?" Sam asked, afraid to know already.

"I mean that it's not only beasts that he loves to stalk and _shoot_. Or women."

Sam was too shaken to even think of refuting his own possible leaning towards men. He knew about the lord's reputation, but surely, after all they had been through together, Dean had to realize Sam wasn't interested in some vulgar, insignificant affair.

"So you think he's only trying to…"

"I think his dick has seen no action in the past months so he's hunting the only available prey, the only person trusting enough to fall for his tricks. The most readily accessible piece of ass as long as we're stuck here."

Sam couldn't believe he had been so naïve ! He had lost sight of Winchester's true goal thanks to his stupendous ability to give pleasure, but Sam should have known someone like him was just a game for such a man. There was no reason to believe otherwise when even the lord's own grandfather was warning him to stay away.

"Sorry I was so crude but I needed you to realize the seriousness of the situation. You're worth much more than that, Sam," Campbell continued, "don't let him mess with you."

"Yes, Professor, I understand now. Thank you."

Sam's voice was so hesitant that even he heard it. The professor seemed to want to add something but thought better of it. Instead, he patted Sam's shoulder awkwardly and then left him to his thoughts. At least he hadn't seemed disgusted by Sam's more than probable proclivities.

By the time Dean found him again on the balcony circling the Tree house, Sam had worked himself to pure anger at the thought of being just another lay for him. An easy one at that.

So Dean's attempt at taking Sam in his arms was rebuked forcefully, enough that he stumbled a few steps backward. Sam met his surprised expression with a belligerent attitude.

"Your grandfather reminded me how all your conquests are just another notch on your bedpost. I don't care to be added to that grand total."

Dean's reaction was instantaneous, turning his flirty mood into contempt.

"Wait, which grandfather are we talking about here ? The one who abandoned me when I became an orphan ? The one who did his best to decimate _my_ heritage to follow _his_ whims ? The one who told me surely I was somehow responsible for my mother or my baby brother's disappearance when I was not even ten years old ?! If this is the man we're talking about, this paragon of virtue who lost any room to criticize any other human beings thirty years ago at least, then know that as much as I hate him, it's nothing next to the hatred he feels about me for no valid reason I could ever imagine, other than I was the son of John Winchester, the man who dared to marry his precious little girl. So yes, I can clearly see why that man's judgment of me and my actions is relevant to our relationship, Sam."

Sam was far too furious to listen.

"There's no relationship to speak of," he refuted. "You can bash him all you want, Dean, I can't believe a grandfather wouldn't love his only remaining grandson, the child of his own daughter. Surely you must have misunderstood his attitude, or done something to explain it. You are known for chasing women, don't try to pretend he lied on this account. And even if he wasn't the best grandfather, he's your family. You have to forgive him."

Even as he said it, Sam didn't really believe in his own words, born out of the orphan's desperation to be reunited with his own family, and Dean's response didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Fuck you, Sam ! I don't need your petty moral lessons. I thought you were different. I thought there was something between us ! God, I'm so stupid !"

Dean left without looking back and Sam found himself with no outlet for his remaining anger. Dean hadn't exactly denied his accusations but there was a world of suffering in his words. He had told Sam much more about himself in this moment than any previous conversation. Sam had been able to see a glimpse of the lone, abandoned child who had grown into the smirking lord, and he felt that he was suddenly able to understand a lot about his demeanor.

He had wanted to know, and the knowledge didn't make him feel better at all. Just a case of be careful what you wish for.

Dean was keeping everyone at a distance, family included. Maybe especially his family, who had abandoned him in all the ways possible. His mom and brother leaving him behind, his father dying, and finally his grandfather ignoring him except for stealing his money.

It was difficult for Sam to reconcile the portrait Dean had painted of his grandfather with the professor who had helped and encouraged Sam ever since they had first met.

Feeling at a loss, Sam turned around to get away and found Meg and Jenn watching him. He hadn't even heard them coming in, probably attracted by the dispute. While Meg's stare was mostly curious, Jenn's eyes were crucifying Sam on the spot, definitely wishing for a dinosaur to fly in right then and crunch on Sam alive. Repeatedly.

Disgusted and still incapable of ordering his thoughts, Sam sighed and waved the girls off, marching resolutely to his room in the hope that Dean wouldn't come back any time soon.

He closed the door to let it be known that he wanted to be left alone – too bad a light door made of leaves and a wood framework couldn't be slammed – and then sat at the table with his journal.

 

_July 2nd_

_One of the qualities that helped me become a good journalist is, if I can say so myself, the ability to tell quickly if someone's lying to me._

_It's clear now that this ability will only work as far as I'm not concerned._

_The professor wants me to believe that Dean is worse than even I expected of him when we first learned to know each other, selfish lover and disreputable man. Dean tells me that the professor has been the worst grandfather a child could ever suffer from, interested only in the money he could suck up from his inheritance, never caring for his well-being._

_Who should I trust ? Who to believe ? The man who's been good to me and surely can't be the monster Dean described ? The one I'm falling for a bit more every day, who has saved my life more than once and never asked for anything in return, save maybe for my love and attention ?_

_I know who my mind trusts, and it's not the person my heart listens to. Not the one my eyes constantly look for, my hands wish to hold and feel._

_Why can't he love me just like I want to do for him ?_

Introspection hadn't helped in the slightest and Sam's anger was still simmering right under the surface, ready to explode at any moment. Everyone walked on eggshells around him, everyone but Jenn, who seemed just as angry, and Dean who simply ignored him.

Trying to keep away from the rest of the group as much as possible, he passed the time in many ways, alone most of the time, like going through the forest to enjoy his love of sketching the very rich and varied flora and fauna, or spending an afternoon going through old entries of his journal.

_March 27th_

_…Who knows how to produce soap ? Or ropes ? Not me. I didn't even really know how to cook, to be honest, only the basics, when we arrived on the plateau. Back in our old world, I used to rely on someone else's knowledge to be able to wash myself or eat properly. Our new life has put an end to this attitude and I'm currently getting a new education, mostly thanks to Meg. I'm not sure what we'll find here that the professors wanted so much but I'll go home a changed man._

_March 22th_

_…We're still wondering about the strangely hot weather. Professor Campbell was pretty sure the plateau's elevation culminated somewhere between two and three miles above the level of the sea, which means we should be freezing our bottoms off and bitterly regret the loss of our winter gear back in the valley. Yet the coldest it has been so far was around 86° F but the average temperature seems to climb to a meek and balmy 95, with frequent peaks around 105. Definitely not what my life in Boston had prepared me for, not to mention the last months in London._

_March 16th_

_…Professor Singer says it has to do with the quantity of oxygen left in the air at such a height, that our bodies will adapt soon enough. In the meanwhile, the rifles are our best friends against the surprising and dangerous wildlife that seems to flourish here. Winchester asked that we spare the bullets for the bigger beasts and use the bows and arrows he made to catch our meals. I understand where he comes from, but it doesn't mean I don't want to punch his face every time he kills one of those big, dinosaur-like birds, and I miss my own prey by a mile._

_March 2nd_

_…Every day we're getting closer to our take-off site. Every night, I'm sharing a tent with the Hunter. The man is certainly full of himself but I'm so tired after a day of paddling that I actually don't mind talking with him for the few minutes it takes me to fall asleep. And I'm still wondering about the professor's order to "under no circumstances ever trust Winchester." Arrogant he may be, but our English lord is doing more than his part to get us to our destination, dealing with our guides and making sure they're not slacking off or misguiding us. Especially Edgardo, the chief guide who failed to impress Winchester from the very beginning, maybe because Professor Campbell clearly relies on him. Strangely, I find myself willing to lean on Winchester far more than the native guy, so aloof and guarded._

 

Everything looked so much easier back then, when he had no clue about his own attraction to Dean, when Dean still played the part of the macho man. Before he had tried to change their easy relationship and to fuck him.

His own feelings were so muddled, his body longing for the pleasure Dean had revealed to him, his heart too bruised to give him permission to forget and forgive. Especially after he had learned that Dean had spent a lot of time with Castiel over the past days.

The last two weeks had been nothing but horrendous, Dean and Sam each camping on their antagonistic attitudes. Today, fed up at last with the heavy atmosphere in the Tree house, everyone else had conspired to get them together and talk. Save for Campbell, of course, the only one who had seemed quite happy with the latest turn of events.

So Professor Singer had taken his colleague along at dawn for a walk, in search of some inscriptions on the wall of a cavern Meg had told him about. Jenn had stayed in bed, saying she didn't feel great, and Meg had thrown Dean and Sam's rifles into their respective hands, telling them it was far past the day when they needed to put in a little bit of work instead of bitching their time away, because everybody was sick of them and it so happened that fresh meat was needed. Maybe killing some innocent animals would help them deal with their anger in a satisfactory and useful way.

The two men felt they deserved to be scolded enough for them to set out in a thick silence towards the clearing where they had shot their best game previously, close to a clear stream.

The first hours were strained, full of resentment from both parts, and they found themselves lucky that they needed to keep quiet to avoid frightening any potential prey.

Their usual playful rivalry took over without either of them realizing it as soon as they spotted their first Poolah of the day, a long and heavy dinosaur that would offer them all a decent meal for days to come. The ugly thing was difficult to kill, its whole body covered with protruding plates that could deflect bullets the same way they did with other predators' big teeth, but they had both managed before and they knew they could do it again.

Dean signaled to Sam to go hide behind a rock a few feet on the left so that they could try to shoot the beast from a different angle and improve the odds in their favor. Sam moved as silently as he had learned and positioned himself, waiting for the next signal that would tell him Dean was ready too and they could fire at the first opportunity.

Sam narrowed his eyes, aimed as finely as he could, and shot right into the beast's heart, one fraction of a second before Dean's bullet cracked its heavy skull. The show-off hadn't resisted the chance to impress Sam once again by shooting the most tightly protected area of the dino's body and Sam didn't know if he was more amazed or annoyed. Still, he had shot first and the kill was his, fair and square.

They forgot their dissension for the sake of the hunting thrill, exchanging a delighted smile before they remembered they were supposed to be angry at each other, but they didn't lose time arguing again about who should do what. They had done those same exact moves too many times already not to act in great synchronicity. They used ropes to tie the beast's legs, Dean pulled apart the branches they needed to carry it on their shoulders while Sam roughly patched the wound to make sure they wouldn't leave a trail of blood that bigger scavengers could follow, and then they set on their way back home.

Maybe because they couldn't look into each other's eyes, a sporadic conversation started timidly, pale comparison to what they had once shared, but at least they were trying.

"This trip does have positive effects too," Sam ventured. "You've taught me how to shoot, how to feed myself. I can definitely go back home and hunt the birds at Franklin Park."

"Lucky you, city boy."

"Have you ever visited Boston ?"

"Nah, too posh for me."

Sam snorted.

"You, the English lord, think Boston is too posh ?"

"Only thing my dreadful grandfather and I ever agreed on : all those titles and fancy houses are pretty useless. You can take the boy out of Kansas, but he will never become an English lord."

"So if you and the professor are in agreement on this at least, perhaps you could find other topics of compromise."

"Don't bother, Sam. It's hopeless. We hate each other's guts and the only way for he and I to be part of the same family is to live on different continents."

"Why did you join the expedition, then, if you can't stand to occupy the same space as him ?"

"Because I don't trust him. And he's always been obsessed with this place. If he needed so badly to find it, there must be something he's looking for. Something beyond fame and peer recognition."

"Something like what ?"

"I don't know exactly, not yet, but I'll find out."

"You think it's something dangerous ?"

"I think he's never believed in his daughter's disappearance and he's still looking for a way to bring her back. Any lead, any solution. And it could backfire in the worst way."

Sam watched him, full of incomprehension.

"I thought your mother was dead ?"

"She is, as far as I know. She left when I was a kid, without any explanation, and we were told later on that she had died, run over by the wheels of a carriage. The horses had gone mad, trying to escape the cargo of flaming hay at their back. My father never recovered after the news finally reached us. He still believed she would regret her decision, even told all our neighbors she was visiting her family in the USA with my little brother and they would be back soon… But then we learned about her. Nobody could tell us what had become of my brother, but we knew she'd never come back."

"Then I don't understand. What is Campbell after in this place that could have anything to do with his deceased daughter ? And how on Earth could he imagine bringing her back ?!"

Winchester seemed to think long and hard about his answer.

"Listen, I don't know if you're ready to hear this, and the easy way would be to tell you that he's just looking for her hiding place. But the truth is, he's looking for her spirit. He's visited pretty much each and every primeval forest of this world, and my best guess is that he believes this is the place where he'll be able to summon her back to our living plane. That's why I need to be here, to prevent him from summoning something potentially bad."

Sam stood gaping, forcing Dean to stop too and trying to decide if the other man was mocking him more than usual or if he was completely honest and just as crazy.

"Then what about Lady Jenn ?" he finally asked, because the woman seemed too normal and sensible for that kind of delusion.

"What about her ?"

"I'm pretty sure you know what, stop playing dumb. I can't believe a lady of her status and wealth chose to go on such an adventure for the sole purpose of enjoying the view."

"Don't worry about her, she's no danger," Dean dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand as he began to walk again, forcing Sam to follow.

"How do you know that ?" Sam insisted, jealousy close to the surface even though he didn't want to feel that way.

"I know it because she's my partner, okay ? We're both financing the expedition. She decided to tag along for fun, and because she doesn't trust Samuel any more than I do."

"So she's what ? Your bodyguard ?" Sam laughed.

"Laugh it up, college boy. But I advise you never to laugh like that in front of her. She's the most badass person you'll ever see. Her sense of humor is just not as developed as her punching skills, though."

There was so much admiration in Dean's voice that Sam's old jealousy reared instantly more of its ugly head and he couldn't control his curiosity any longer.

"Wait, are you two… involved ?"

Dean stopped again and his expression when he turned to face Sam, depositing the beast on the ground, was as guarded as it was at the beginning of their conversation.

"I see you keep preferring to believe my grandfather's lies rather than anything I say. If you must know, Jenny and I were an item once, a long time ago, when she needed someone to take care of her after her husband's death, but then we realized we were better off as friends than lovers. But what about you, Mr. Wesson ? If you ask questions, you should be prepared to answer them too. Why are you here ? Who told an unknown, newbie American journalist about this minor, crazy expedition that started off so far from him in England ? What got you interested enough that you'd come along at the risk of being killed in any number of ways ?"

Sam set the branches and the beast down too then sat on the nearest rock and leaned down, afraid of Dean's reaction. But the truth had to come out at some point and he needed to be honest with the man he wanted so badly as his lover, even though he couldn't trust him blindly.

"Professor Campbell told me," he finally confessed.

Deafening silence followed his statement for a long, outstretched minute.

"You knew him before we prepared for the expedition ? Before you went to England ?"

This was the soft tone Sam had come to associate with Dean at his most dangerous, the silence before the tempest, the recoil strangely coming before the fire shot.

"Yes, he… we met during my studies at BU. He lectured at the School of Liberal Arts and was part of an excellence jury. For some reason, he requested to meet me after he read my dissertation. He said he was impressed. We kept in touch. He would invite me to dinner every time he was in America, and tell me about his research. He could see how fascinated I was, so he knew I would be interested when he finally found Professor Morrison's journal that led him to pinpoint at last the lost plateau's location."

"And you went all the way to England just to hear him expose his findings and theories to a bunch of old geezers who call him crazy because they're definitely set in their ways and he challenges their perception ?"

"No," Sam answered, hesitant again. "I had been there already for a while. The professor had used his relationships to get me my first job, assistant to the correspondent in London for the Boston's Voice."

Sam could just about feel that wall Dean had been building around himself since Sam had told him to back off thickening anew with every revelation about his previous involvement with his grandfather. And it forced him to understand and admit at last, by the complete change in the adventurer's attitude, by the way the hurt he felt was obviously so personal, that Dean's initial interest in him had never been contrived or simulated. Sam had been more than a notch on his bedpost. Or rather he would have been, had Sam let Dean show him the depth of his feelings.

It was too late now. Dean would always associate him with the likes of his grandfather ; at the very least, Dean had realized that Sam was not the great judge of character he thought himself to be, not when he was involved anyway, and he would never offer Sam again the chance to get close.

The silence stretched again, allowing Sam to digest all the news he had gathered and try to make as much sense of it as he could.

"If the professor hates you so much," he asked suddenly, "why did he let you in ?"

Dean smirked.

"Oh, he did try to ditch me. He went to Jenny – stupid fool had known her as a child, the tomboy who followed me in each and every one of my exciting adventures around the countryside, but he didn't recognize the grown-up, widowed Jenn Mills he hadn't seen for many years when she introduced herself as Lady Shore – and told her I was not to be trusted, probably the same speech he gave you. Fortunately for me, Jenny knows me better than he ever will. She's a true friend and she told him that her financial support couldn't be granted unless I was there to ensure the safety of the whole group and be her personal expert, to assure her that he wouldn't try to lead an innocent woman on a merry chase unrelated to our goal."

"Lady Jenn, an innocent woman ?" Sam laughed. "I'm prepared to bet she hasn't matched the description since her early teenage years."

"I taught her how to defend herself and she fights for the people she loves. She might not be as learned and tough as the great and so respected Samuel Campbell but she's one hundred percent a better person than he will ever be, whatever all those professor types think."

"You don't seem to like scholars much."

Considering the relationship he had had with his grandfather, Sam could easily imagine how the lord would be unimpressed by scholars that had shown him so little empathy and love.

"Well, I don't admire journalists much either, they're like parasites who make a living out of others' lives and act all knowledgeable although they know very little of what they're talking about most of the time. Which explains why they get their facts wrong more often than not, and I'm not even mentioning those who deal in sensationalism. But between you and Professor Singer, I thought I might just change my mind a bit. As far as you're both concerned, anyway."

Sam felt an unexpected glow of pride wash over him at Dean's words. Surprise too, for it seemed he had never appreciated that much receiving the proof of the fact he was doing something right. What was it about it that made changing Dean's opinion so important to him ? Especially after their recent misunderstanding.

The conversation died again, for good this time as they picked up their load and put it back on their shoulders to restart their walk through the forest, but Sam was confident by the time they got back to the Tree that their relationship was on the mend.

He had a lot to think about, especially all the crazy stuff Dean had alluded to that Sam had voluntarily not asked about, and this continuing attraction that wouldn't quit despite their quarrel. He needed time to mull it all through and decide where he would let their relationship go, but he felt lighter already, able to think instead of fighting for breath every time Dean ignored him.

Obscurity was almost complete by the time Sam made it back to his bedroom.

He felt feverish tonight, sleep far from his mind. The need for closeness was too strong, fueled with memories of Dean's hands on his body, his fingers filling him.

But Dean right now was seemingly asleep, lightly covered by a thin blanket that looked black in the darkness of the room, his head turned in the opposite direction of Sam's cot. They had played it safe these past weeks since their argument, one of them spending some time out on the balcony circling the house while the other prepared for the night and went to bed, asleep – or pretending to be – before their roommate came back.

For some reason, Sam couldn't take it tonight. He wanted Dean to acknowledge his presence, to watch him undress, to admire him again, even though he wasn't sure if he was really ready to get intimate with the hunter again.

He made a show of taking his shirt off, stumbling against the cot on purpose to produce a lot of noise in the hope of wakening Dean in case the man was really sound asleep. Not daring to look and see if Dean's eyes were now open, he unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to his feet, soon followed by his underpants. Then he stood there, naked and shivering, feeling both stupid and empowered by his brazen act.

It certainly wasn't the first time that Dean Winchester could see him bared from head to toe, but Sam had never disrobed for someone previously, and it felt good.

He needed to know if Dean's attraction to him had been just a fluke or something more profound that Sam could control, or maybe just reproduce at will. Wanted to experiment with his sex appeal, see what kind of reaction he could get out of Dean.

Still not looking at the other man, Sam pushed his own blanket to lie on the bed on his back. Now accustomed to the dark, the silhouette of his engorged cock stood proud, bigger than ever in the room so calm and silent. Sam felt like the heat had gotten that bit more enveloping, willing Dean's gaze to be the reason for this feeling. He had never touched himself like this, not without the protection of a sheet or his underpants to make sure no one would ever see him play with himself. But there he was tonight, abolishing all boundaries to entice a man he had already pushed away, insecure in his own power but prepared to do anything he could to make sure Dean would want him again.

The smell of sex already so pungent, Sam's body moved on its own to pursue its specific satisfaction. His hands rose, one of them joining his cock to begin a slow, lazy stroke, while the other gathered his balls and massaged them gently but firmly. He was in no hurry, abandoning himself to the exciting feeling of putting on a show for a captive audience, only artist in the world able to perform this actual part for such a very special person.

His thumb grazed the head of his cock and Sam hissed with pleasure, copying the move enough times to gather more pre-seminal liquid and use it to facilitate his caresses. He was getting close, he could tell, each stroke taking him that fraction closer to the brink.

He made sure to leave the view unobstructed when his legs fell apart and his right hand went in search of his hole, eager to appreciate again the sensation Dean had made him discover. It was hard pushing in without the water and soap to ease the way, but he soon came up with the idea to wet his finger with saliva. He missed the feeling of Dean all around him but it felt great anyway, decadent and wondrous.

So good everything else faded away. There was very little left in him in terms of display when he began to pinch his nipples and let out a rushed moan bearing all of his desire and pleasure. He was all given to the sensation. He didn't even realize when his hand went back to his cock, when he stripped himself frantically, two fingers now deep into his ass looking for the maddening bliss Dean was so talented for.

And then he came, fountain-like, incapable of keeping the raspy breath of his overworked lungs in.

Dean had turned over while Sam was pleasuring himself but nothing indicated he had seen any of it. Sam bit back a sound, half-sob, half-moan and turned too, facing his roommate.

He would find another way to get Dean's attention back.

Sam fled the Tree as soon as he woke up, unable to imagine looking Dean in the eyes after the previous night's display, caught between shame and lingering lust. It was a good thing the hunter had already left for parts unknown. So Sam sharpened his pencils, grabbed his sketchbook and some fruits, and then left home for another trip of discovery around the perimeter.

Nowhere near the carnivorous plants but still far enough from the Tree to feel at ease again.

He had been far more alert since his previous misadventure, looking for any kind of trouble before he went into a new area. But the cries he heard suddenly made him forget everything as he rushed towards the human being calling for help, understandable in any foreign language.

He found the young woman caught in a huge web, and Sam did his best to avoid imagining the size of the arachnid capable of weaving such a giant thing that it would have left room for him too. She was in hysterics, probably mistaking Sam for the predator that would eat her alive.

"Hey, don't worry," he whispered in a mix of English and the plateau's language to try to make her stop screaming. "I don't wanna hurt you, I'm here to help."

The girl began to calm down upon hearing his soothing tone, even before his words registered, the part she could understand anyway. Dean's knife came in handy, easily cutting through the sticky threads to free her. She would have to take a bath to get rid of the ones glued to her body, but soon she was able to move and get as far from the web as she wanted.

"Are you okay ?" he asked, never forgetting to look around for the spider's return.

She seemed to understand despite his accent and the probable differences between the Tapuils' dialect and her own. She smiled at him, answering with her own mostly incomprehensible words. She was pretty, the first blonde he had met on the plateau apart from Meg.

"Do you want to come back with me ?" he offered with a gesture of his hands in the direction of the Tree.

The idea to let her go unprotected in the forest didn't sit right with him, but he was also loath to wander further without his friends knowing about it. Maybe they could walk back to the Tree and then Dean and he would accompany her back to her tribe later.

She shook her head and indicated the other direction, and then did it again when Sam tried once more to get her to agree with his plan. She laughed and searched for something in her bag, taking a fruit out of it and offering it to Sam. Probably her way to thank him for saving her life.

"Thanks," he said, "but I'm all set."

She insisted, and Sam had never been one to hurt a girl's feelings so he capitulated quickly. He got one of his own fruits and exchanged it for the orangey one offered by the girl, looking so much like an apple except for the juice dripping as soon as he bit into it. The taste was quite enjoyable, fresh and acidulous, and Sam swallowed the whole thing far quicker than the girl who watched him with a blinding smile.

She pushed more fruits into Sam's hand and left with another smile and a few words. Sam called after her but she had already disappeared in the thick vegetation. He shrugged and decided to go back home.

He found Professor Campbell reading one of Meg's books as he was closing in on the Tree. It was the opportunity he had wished for, with the certitude Dean wouldn't look for him here.

"Professor, can I ask you a question ?" he asked as he approached.

"Of course, boy, go ahead."

Sam searched for his words, not willing to let his chance to learn more pass. It felt like an interview somehow, his usual way to get more information than the person in front of him would like to share.

"I find myself contemplating many new horizons since we arrived here. This place has forced me to consider new phenomena and truths that I'm sure you've encountered long before me, and I feel I'm in need of your opinion and guidance. Would you help me ?"

"That's part of my job, Sam. Teaching willing students the wonders and mysteries of our world. What were you thinking about exactly ?"

Sam sent the older man a relieved smile.

"Well, I keep feeling like I'm not alone, especially at times when I am indeed alone in the rainforest. Did you ever get this feeling ? Like someone was there, watching you"

"Absolutely, Samuel. I'm not surprised to see that your instinct didn't fail you here anymore than in our usual world. There are indeed many weird phenomena in this world, some that science is about to decipher, but others that will surely remain out of the realm of our scientific understanding. It will fall upon men like us to study them and make sure spiritual manifestations and monsters can't hurt anyone."

"So what are you saying ? That ghosts exist ? And what kind of monsters are you talking about ? Dinosaurs ? Is that why you wanted to come here ?"

"Yes and no. Ghosts do exist, and I knew it a long time before I learned about dinosaurs. But monsters are very real too, and lots of them are much, much worse than dinosaurs."

Sam watched the professor for a while, transfixed by his pinning gaze.

"Is professor Singer also knowledgeable in this area of expertise ?"

"Of course ! He wouldn't be much of a rival otherwise. Though the old fool is a lot more of a bleeding heart than me."

"What do you mean ?"

"That I will never dillydally if I need to exorcize someone, even if I know the host won't make it. Or to salt and burn bones to send a ghost where it belongs."

It was official now. Either he had landed with a bunch of lunatics, or there was something here to research and understand. He wouldn't let his assumptions get in the way once again.

So he went to find Professor Singer, found him busy collecting plant samples and immediately questioned him, which proved easy with the opening the older man had given him a few weeks before.

"When I was injured, I vaguely remember you talking about some Carpobrotus species, called witch's claws or some such, and that you had done research about it. I didn't give it much attention back then but something Dean told me recently leads me to believe this was not idle interest that motivated you. I guess you wanted to determine how real the witch of the name really is, right ?"

The professor turned to Sam in amusement.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to catch up with us, and who would be the one to give you the first clue, Campbell or Winchester."

"So you do believe too in ghosts and monsters."

Singer scoffed and really looked like a professor in this moment.

"It's not a question of believing, Samuel. It's about witnessing, questioning, learning. It's not really different than what you do for a job, I guess. You just have to ask the right questions and keep an open mind. Science is beautiful and helpful, but it's often limited by the blinders too many scientists choose to wear. I have no doubts physics and biology could explain ghosts and monsters if someone looked into them hard enough. Men in the Middle Ages feared lightning. Try to explain electricity or meteorology to them, they would certainly take you for a fool. I'm pretty sure someday we'll be the Middle Ages men of those who will have succeeded in explicating and treating what we still classify as 'unexplained phenomena'."

"Which means you've encountered witches ? I thought you said the name was a fluke."

"Not exactly," Singer answered in his best professorial tone, "but in light of your state of health back then, I'll let it pass. I said I haven't found any proof so far that the plant was indeed used by such creatures, but I have no doubt I will someday if I really look into it. I did encounter witches in my research, some good, some bad, but neither kind was ever in a hurry to disclose their rituals and practices. Knowledge takes time, Samuel, and it means power. It is the most valuable possession you can ever wish for. And in my area of expertise maybe more than any other one, it can make the difference between life and death."

They had kind of made up, but Dean had yet to join Sam again, as he used to every morning, to wash with him in the clear waters. In the first days after their quarrel, Sam had felt relieved to be left alone, wrapped in his righteous anger about the plans he thought Dean had made for him without ever wondering if Sam would agree. Now, he simply felt lonely.

He also felt very stupid the day some Amazon-like warriors found him in the lake, alone and unarmed, and dragged him easily along with them, tied, dripping wet, and naked as the day he was born.

He wondered if Dean would ever be able to find him without a clue as to his disappearance. There would probably be hours before someone even realized he was gone, and then what ?

The worst, though, was to think that maybe Dean didn't care that much now that Sam had pushed him away.

They walked long and hard, Sam's feet protected only by the crude fabric his abductors had covered them with, which was no real protection against rocks and thorns. Maybe it was an assurance for the girls that Sam would be more focused on where he walked than finding a way to escape.

Their own feet looked strong and hardened, encased in Roman-looking sandals he suddenly remembered seeing on the young girl he had helped escape the spider's web very recently. The rest of their clothes look very similar too, short and sexy tunic close to what Meg used to wear.

Sam couldn't help but wonder if those scary women had one breast cut off just like the legendary Amazons he had compared them to at first sight. They looked fearless, and even the one he had saved looked different now when he finally spotted her, not so much a frightened teenager but a composed woman ready to fight and win.

If this was all done to thank him, they sure had a weird sense of gratitude. But it was beginning to feel more and more like a trap had been set for him during their previous encounter and it was now closing on him. Something he didn't understand but had the potential to become lethal. Quickly.

Worst of all, he imagined all kinds of scenarios about his own fate at their hands, fueled by the legends around the Amazons. Was he going to be killed ? Because he was a male ? A stranger ? Or maybe they were looking for a procreator, as it seemed the tribe was all women ? It didn't look like a much better future, used by many women as a simple breeder, and they might still kill him afterwards, once he had fulfilled his role.

He couldn't do anything right now, just trail along feeling half-ashamed and half-silly with the leash attached to the collar around his neck as he stumbled again and again on the uneven ground, bare-assed and cock flopping around ridiculously.

Going through the forest naked was becoming kind of a tradition for him on the plateau. His mother had called him stuffy and too shy quite often, particularly before he went to college, and she would have laughed a lot at his recurring predicament. The reminder of his mother's laugh warmed him for a while and helped him get a measure of calm back. No reason to worry too much before the danger was facing him ; he could hear Dean telling him to be prepared but to stop sapping his own energy with unreasonable fears.

Sam estimated at three good hours the time it took them to rejoin the Amazons' village – he had decided to call them that as long as he didn't know their real name and once again, Dean's bad influence on him would have Professor Campbell seething if he could hear him, completely oblivious to the good part of it that had taught Sam to embed marks on the way to make sure his friends could follow him, upturned rocks and torn off leaves.

This village looked a lot wealthier than the Tapuils' had been. More ancient too. The constructions were all white rocks gleaming under the sun, burnished and eroded with time. The women slowly making their way out of the houses were the descendants of many generations and Sam wasn't the first one to be dragged there if the lack of surprise was anything to go by. His nakedness didn't bring about any catcall or whistling, not even through the very young male children – no male beyond six or seven, he could tell, confirming the tribe's association he had made with the Amazons.

The silence weighed on him as much as the heavy stares as the warriors leading him strolled through the streets until they came up to a lengthy plaza. Empty at first, the followers they had garnered along the way soon filled it, most of them coming close to Sam each in turn to touch him. The first hand had him jumping away but he got soon used to the feeling of a light and warm hand brushing against any part of his heated skin. And even though some of those hands came in contact with very intimate parts of his body, Sam could tell this wasn't sexual in nature. There was too much reverence in the act. They touched him like one would come in contact with a religious, most sacrosanct relic. With some kind of worship. The hope to catch onto something of the sacred and bring it forth inside oneself.

And still the silence. The silence that made everything else so heavy in comparison, so much more significant.

The crowd opened to let a beautiful woman come up to Sam. She was blonde like the girl he had first met, like many others in the tribe, her long hair falling straight down her back. Thin and tall, she had this air about her, this gravitas and superiority showing her as a high figure among her people.

She raised her hand and placed it against his sternum. Sam felt an immediate answer in himself, a heat closer to a burn than simple warmth, and he tried in vain to get away. A ball of fire seemed to grip his inside, to melt it all into radiating energy, trying to expand and leave his self behind, but then something settled in him again, his life power fighting back, everything he was gathering to match the intrusion and expel it far.

The woman watched him with a pleased smile and her words of approval were met with a huge cry of joy from everyone else, reverberating in the whole village. Whatever it meant for him, he had obviously passed the test.

Next thing he knew, his leash was stretched again and he was forced to follow behind the blonde leader who had to be some sort of shaman to her tribe, only a lot less nice than Castiel. They seemed to walk right out of the village, but then veered off to the left and entered another plaza, this one surrounded by stairs that doubled as chairs for the audience and were soon filled by the villagers, grown-up women and children mixed.

He could feel the excitement in the air, which made it clear that he was about to become the main attraction of a much desired show, but still he had no clue about the end game. They hadn't really mistreated him so far but he didn't feel much love from them either. He doubted they saw him as an equal, either because he was a man or because he was a foreigner. Maybe both.

The shaman – _'or should it be shawoman ?'_ he heard Dean's delighted voice say in his head – ordered his guards to take him to something looking too much like an altar for his peace of mind. But even though he tried to fight, he found himself overpowered once again and quickly lying back on the platform, his hands bound this time to the base of the dais and the rest of his body trussed up in a manner so revealing of his most intimate anatomy that he finally got a much better inkling about his role in this original play.

There was a ceremony, the shaman using branches made of soft, needle-like leaves to paint his body with a glossy oil as she went on and on about her job.

There were chants, reminding him of long and droning psalmodies, extended and soothing enough that he felt himself lulled into a wrong sense of calmness, almost to the brink of sleep, despite the cramps taking his limbs.

"Tebassa !" the shaman suddenly called, instantly bringing the crowd back to silence.

Startled, Sam raised his head to see what the squeaking sound of a door opening implied for him. And his heart stopped beating.

A dinosaur. Something between a gorilla and a canidae, mixing the arms of one species and the jaw of the other, but lacking the hair that would have hidden its powerful musculature to make it look less dangerous, or simply made it a tad fluffy. A beast so hideous and big it was difficult to decide if it would fuck him or kill him. Probably both, judging by the sheer size of the penis popping out of its sheath, eagerly bobbing towards Sam. There was no way a human body could take that then live to tell the tale and seek medical help. Even if Dean and the professor found him again, no amount of Carpobrotus would cut it this time. Not after Sam had been impaled and cut in two, and possibly half-eaten.

His legs tried to close on their own, his mind to black out. But nothing would work save for his eyes taking in the beast watching him back, hunger and delight readable in its whole demeanor while approaching Sam on its hind legs, its two upper limbs occupied in the age-old motions of a male preparing its penis for a good time.

"Where's Sam ?"

"Anywhere I'm not, apparently," Dean answered flippantly.

The silence made him look up to find Meg still watching him, disappointment and anger all over her pretty face.

"I haven't seen him since I left our room," he decided to elaborate, "and he was still sleeping. You know we don't spend much time together recently."

"Well, could you please get off your butt and find him. Lunch's ready."

It wasn't really a question and Dean didn't have anything better to do. Meg wouldn't let any of them eat until they were all present and accounted for. She did that same thing every time she was the one preparing the meal.

He walked around the Tree, met in the closest meadow the professors who hadn't seen Sam since breakfast and didn't have a clue either about his whereabouts, found Jenny enjoying the shade with a good book in the tree she used when she wanted to be alone, but no sign of the obviously still pissed off Mr. Wesson.

Dean had thought they were doing better since their hunting day, but maybe he had it all wrong once again. Maybe Sam was trying to avoid them all now, to make sure no one would force his hand to spend some time with Dean. But Sam was level-headed and Dean doubted he would go farther than the perimeter Meg had deemed safe for them to go on their own, not unless he really had to.

A nagging concern started to get him.

He went to the lake, intent on retracing Sam's steps to follow him, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sam's clothes and towel on the rock he used every day to keep them from the sand. He almost jumped when he heard Jenny's voice behind him, angry with himself for letting his worry cloud his awareness of his surroundings.

"Do you think some beast… took him ?"

No need to be a genius to understand Jenn had had another verb in mind before she changed it from eat to take, to spare Dean, and probably herself, some terrible and gory image they didn't need to clutter their minds.

"No," he answered, "Meg has bathed in here for years and nothing ever happened to her. There's no blood. Hardly a sign of a fight. But look, these steps here were made by more than one pair of human feet."

Jenny wasn't as good a tracker as Dean but she should have seen them too, proof she was just as afraid for Sam. Coming from the water, several pairs of small steps walked a path directly to the forest, along with one bigger pair – much bigger and wearing no shoes, Sam's to be sure – irregularly placed steps that had to mean Sam had been dragged against his will.

Dean turned to Jenn.

"Go look for the others and tell them to come armed and ready. Bring some food and water too, we don't know how long we'll be gone."

"What are you going to do ?"

"I'm just going to follow the trail. I doubt Meg needs it but I'll leave you all something to be able to catch up."

"No, you should wait for us."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Dean calmed her with a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be safe. But I need to go now, when the trail is still about fresh, or we'll lose any chance to save Sam. I promise to wait for you if I find him, okay ?"

"Okay," Jenn answered, obviously still worried as she knew Dean enough to foresee he would only wait if he thought Sam was not in immediate danger.

She hugged him and then watched him leave quickly before she ran back to the Tree, yelling as loud as she could to alert the professors that they were needed.

She didn't need to. Something in Dean's questions must have worried them, just like it had with her, to make them come back to the Tree and prepare for a fight instead of taking their places around the table to wait for the last one to dig into the plates.

The three others were packed and armed, and Meg helped Jenn gear up while she explained what Dean had found and that he was waiting for them to follow him.

She couldn't lose him. Dean had been the only person able to help her get over the death of her husband. She wouldn't overcome Dean's disappearance if something bad happened to him too because Sam kept finding trouble. But Dean had fallen for him, that much was clear to her, and he would do anything in his power to get him back, alive and unharmed, even if the ungrateful giant never realized Campbell was a monster and Dean deserved to be loved.

They advanced quickly and caught up with Dean in less than an hour. Then he and Meg combined their knowledge to read the path and walk even quicker. Dean was agitated, clearly on tenterhooks, and he avoided narrowly a trap set for uninvited visitors thanks to Meg who pushed him out of the way of a spear he had triggered with his foot. The realization of his near-death seemed to wake him up from a quasi-trance. It also tipped them all about the fact that they were either expected or closing in on their destination.

They were expected, as their attackers proved, but also very close to the pretty village the all-women troop marched them to as soon as Dean told his companions to stop resisting. 

"Surrender, all of you. We don't need to fight. Can you think of a better way to find Sam than to be led directly to him by his very own abductors ?"

Meg nodded and Jenn let go of the woman she had in a firm strangling grip as the professors also let go of their opponents. It seemed stupid to risk being injured when they needed to keep their strength for the time they had found Sam.

The women didn't know the damage the rifles they had gathered could inflict. They gave them to one of the warriors for safekeeping without realizing that they were more than fancy sticks with a shoulder strap. With one look, Dean and Jenn agreed that at least one of them would always keep an eye on the woman to make sure their weapons could be retrieved swiftly and easily if need be.

There was still hope to get Sam back without a fight. As they went through the village and still saw only women, Dean imagined that the inhabitants might have been in need of strong men, just like the Tapuils. In this case, they could all offer their help in exchange for Sam's freedom. But the fierce-looking ladies seemed very able to deal by themselves with whatever the plateau threw at them. No, Dean thought, surely the reason for Sam's abduction was more nefarious. Such a beautiful, solid man would represent the perfect breeder to a bunch of single women ready to discover the joys of motherhood without the burden of a genitor sticking around once the deed was done and the fun part of coupling was over.

He didn't need to study lore and symbolism like the scholars turned explorers of this group, all he needed was his eyes and good sense to recognize the signs of a female society which would have no use for a male and thus few reasons to kidnap one. The discovery of this tribe didn't excite him in the slightest, and certainly not in the way the two professors were almost drooling over their findings.

"Did you see their children ?" Campbell asked. "Both genders up to a certain age, and then female only. I wonder what becomes of the young males. Some legends say the Amazons mutilated or killed them, but maybe they just send them to their fathers after a certain age, the way some societies take the children away from their nannies, around seven most of the time, to begin the next part of their education as the future leaders of their families. This would happen in reverse here, the boys segregated from all the learning and specific rules of this tribe."

"That's one hell of a fascinating speculation !" Professor Singer exclaimed. "Were the ancestors of those women the real people on which the legend of the Amazons is based, or are they just one remote instance of something inherent to our species – remote enough that males couldn't make them disappear and they were able to thrive through the centuries ?"

"They certainly don't mix with other tribes," Meg let them know. "I'd heard of them, but I had never seen them in all these years."

"Considering the separation between the plateau and the rest of the world," Professor Campbell estimated, just as excited even though he tried to hide it, "my own favorite hypothesis has to be something along your second idea, Professor. Pity we won't be able to study them ! I doubt they will be very amenable to our staying around once we've saved Sam from their clutches."

"Yeah, pity !" Dean snarled. "Pity I won't be able to kill them all if they've harmed Sam in any way."

"Calm down, love," Jenn begged. "You need to be clear-headed to help him."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Professor Singer offered with a heavy touch of sarcasm. "I'm afraid making hypotheses comes with the job for a researcher, and this might be what will help us save Sam. Call it a professional quirk if you will. But you're right, I tend to let it get the better of me in such moments, and our priority is to get Sam back, by whatever means necessary."

Campbell kept resolutely silent but everybody knew he agreed with the project, if not with Dean leading it.

They stopped shortly after being shown into a large room adjacent to a vast, mostly empty space in the middle of which an altar stood. And they all saw him, guarded by a dinosaur.

Sam was utterly naked. Spread-eagled, body offered in full display on top of the altar, sexier than any black and white staged photograph of a naked whore whose familiar pet would have been replaced by the most monstrous approximation available on the plateau. Dean's every fantasy laid out for the taking. For someone else's taking.

More than lust, more than jealousy, rage welled deep inside of him to see in such a position the man he had been falling for so fast, despite the misunderstandings and Sam's lack of trust. Rage and fight were the only possible answer to seeing anyone tied and exposed so publicly against their will. Dean hardly restrained himself, knowing he alone was no match against the many warriors of the tribe and he had to imagine a way to get Sam out of this predicament.

He felt Jenn's hand on his arm grounding him some more, and Meg coming on the other side to lend her own support.

"We've found him," Jenn said urgently, "now don't go making it worse by barging in as long as we don't know what they want with him."

"It seems pretty clear to me."

"I know it's a terrible situation, but let me talk to them and see what's happening," Meg pleaded. "I might get better results simply by being a woman."

"Okay," Dean gritted.

Meg gripped his arm tightly, reminding him she would never let Sam down, before she made her way to the warriors guarding the room.

She didn't have to go far as another women came from the outside field and smiled at Meg. The explorers approached immediately, implying they were there to protect Meg from any trouble.

"She's the high priestess of the tribe," Meg told them when she recognized the status insignia in the jewels adorning her head, and then looked at the blonde more closely. "I seem to remember her from when I was a child. She was once part of Uriel's tribe, but she left when he forbid her to use her talents. I never saw her much, though my parents were in contact with her."

"That's good ! Tell her to release Sam, that he's a friend of yours," Dean suggested agitatedly.

Meg and the woman exchanged a few words, but while the priestess was still smiling, Meg looked more frustrated.

"She says she can't do it, that he's the male virgin they've been waiting for," Meg translated, shooting Dean a surprised look, just like the others. "Strong enough to please the gods and bring the tribe peace and a long life through this offering."

Dean kept silent. Sammy still being a virgin made sense, considering his fierce reaction after Samuel had meddled into their affairs to suggest he would be just another notch on Dean's bedpost.

He sent a heinous look towards his grandfather. Sam wouldn’t be a virgin anymore, and thus in so much trouble, if only the high and mighty professor hadn't interfered just to spite Dean.

"How did they know he's a virgin ?" Dean asked accusingly, his fierce gaze going from Meg to Campbell. "Someone had to tell them !"

"I don't speak their language well enough for that," the professor answered, scowling.

"How would I have known he's a virgin ?" Meg said at the same time.

"Well, ask them !" Dean commanded impatiently.

With a nasty glare, Meg turned to the priestess and uttered a few foreign words that were answered in the same gibberish.

"Only the virgins eat the fruits of the malava," she translated soon.

"Is that true ?"

"Maybe. Probably. I don't know this particular plant but then again, you might have realized we're living in a forest and I only know a few of all the available vegetation. There has to be a reason why they picked him up. His carnal knowledge, or the lack thereof, is not written on his face, as youthful as it might look."

Dean took a deep breath to regain his calm and composure.

"Okay. Sam's a virgin, and they want to please their gods. Now what does that mean, exactly ? How do we get the priestess to change her mind ? There's got to be something we can do !"

After more discussion, the priestess went back outside and Meg turned an ashen face towards Dean but proved incapable to look him in the eyes.

"She says the gods want their sacrifice and she won't turn them down. There's no greater offering than the virginity you kept for the one you love, just like there's no better recipient for this trust and love than their gods. Therefore, Sam will be offered, and because there are no men in this tribe, the dinosaur will be the link between Sam and the gods."

They all stood gaping, watching the huge beast standing already too close to Sam. Although it was still obediently waiting not far from its mistress, it kept inching closer to the sacrifice, its erect cock armed and ready to thrust and tear Sam into shreds.

"Well, listen," Dean intimated, breaking into a sweat at the feeling that Sam's fate relied on him and his ability to think quickly. "Nothing says that this monster has to be the one perpetrating the sacrifice. They say it has to be a male and they don't have one. But I'm there. It could be me. Right ?"

Startled, Meg nodded slowly, a small smile softening her pretty face.

"What ?!" Campbell intervened. "No ! You're not qualified ! You're just going to take what you're after without consideration for him, because you've wanted him forever."

"And he wants me back ! Who would be better suited than the man Sam's attracted to, in your opinion ? A stranger who wouldn't respect him and that he doesn't lust after ? Or maybe yourself, to finish tying him to you in all the ways that count ?"

"You sick fuck !" Campbell bellowed, surging in fury to wrestle Dean and make him eat his words.

Professor Singer came between the two men, pushing Campbell back as the aggressor, but also showing his soft spot for Dean at the same time.

"What about him ?" Campbell asked after taking a deep breath to clear his head and shut his anger. "Singer's got no family ties to Sam, and he's never shown any desire to bed him."

Campbell studiously ignored Dean's wondering eyes.

"What ?!" Professor Singer exclaimed. "Shouldn't that be Sam's decision ?"

To say he was not thrilled by the prospect would be the biggest understatement of the century.

"You know what ?" Dean said. "I don't have time for this crap. You can stay here, act all offended and talk about it till the cows come home but in the meanwhile I'm going to actually do something to save Sam !"

He turned around as he uttered the last words and entered the arena-like area, passing by the priestess to stand in front of Sam and hide him a little bit, followed more prudently by the group.

"Stop !" Dean yelled to the creature slowly making its way to Sam on all fours and raising a hand to make his order even clearer. "This man is my intended, no one but me is allowed to touch him."

He signaled to Meg, silently asking her to translate. The woman nodded but she didn't have time to open her mouth before the priestess addressed Dean directly. In heavily accented but very clear English.

"You had your chance before, foreigner. It's not this tribe's fault that you didn't use it. The sacrifice will proceed as prescribed by the gods. Remember that your intended is lucky to have been remarked by them. The gift of his body will honor him and his soul will be welcomed to the gods' garden to rest happy until the end of time."

She didn't even try to hide the fact that Sam would not likely survive his savaging. Dean watched, helpless, as the priestess encouraged the ugly wild beast to go on. Gauging its strength and trying to decide what was the best way to take it down without getting Sammy or himself killed in the process, he almost missed Professor Singer's voice urgently speaking in his ear.

"Tell them you're his brother !" the older man suggested with conviction. "Many societies acknowledge the authority and power of an older sibling over the younger ones. Tell them Sam belongs to you by blood's law, that you are Lord Winchester, 11th of the name, great hunter and soldier, and that no one, not even a priestess can take away your leadership over your family."

A weighty pause pushed Dean to turn his head and look the professor right in the eyes.

"If all else fails," Singer continued, progressively redder in the face, "tell them you are the only one in capacity to honor the sacrifice by virtue of ownership of your little brother."

Singer backed off and Dean caught Jenny's gaze, his friend closer than any other person of their ragtag group in this moment. He felt himself calmer when she nodded, imperceptible to the untrained eye. She offered him as usual her silent and loving approval and comfort, enough of it to face both the priestess and her creature again with the certainty he would win this time.

"Your gods won't accept this sacrifice," Dean announced quickly, uncomfortable with the closeness of the beast to Sam's prone and tied-up figure. "I claimed Samuel as my intended because he is my little brother and my rights over him far outweigh those of any god. I am Dean, 11th chief of the Winchester clan, fierce and feared soldier of my God, and this man has belonged to me since he was born as I raised him to be mine. Release him to my care. Now."

The priestess took a good look at Sam before she turned back to Dean.

"What did you say his name is ?" she asked.

"Samuel, of the Winchester clan," he managed to answer without stumbling on Sam's real last name, "my cadet and intended."

Hopefully the combination of family and marriage ties would suffice to turn down the tribe's plans. Dean would never let Sam be raped by this monster without fighting till his last breath to prevent it, and while their friends would probably help too, they were nowhere near numerous enough to stand a chance against all those Amazon wannabees.

The priestess walked down her dais and marched right to Dean. The monster turned to her, whining like a dog begging for the treat its master has been dangling in front of it to play, and she put her hand to its head in a soothing caress. The beast sat on its haunches and waited, enormous cock still out and leaking.

Dean took a better look at the priestess while she assessed him in return. A fair-skinned and fair-haired woman in her forties, she was by no means formidable enough to master such a monster with pure physical strength. Which meant she had to wield some serious kind of power Dean had virtually no chance to oppose, unarmed and unprepared. He seriously hoped Professor Singer's advice had been good.

"I'm Rachel," she said at last, "priestess of the tribe. Is your brother-intended a priest too ?"

"He is !" Meg affirmed before Dean could answer in the negative, clearly knowing something he didn't. "The second sons in our clans are generally given to our God, to learn his word and then teach it. Samuel hasn't completed his learning yet, Dean and he can't wed."

She was not even really lying, Dean admired, just fudging the truth a bit, presenting it in the best way to serve Sam and Dean's interests. Many aristocratic families had given their cadets to the Church for centuries, and Sam had told them more than once that he had become a journalist because he believed a life could only be well spent by learning a bit more every day. They couldn't wed for sure, but while that had more to do with their society's mores than any other reason, the priestess could choose to interpret that this fact was in direct relation to Sam's ordination or not.

Dean felt his admiration for Meg grow even more. The girl would have made an incredible politician, had she lived in his world. Or rather, the formidable wife or mistress pulling strings behind the public man. The discreet but all-powerful _éminence grise_ , the puppet master no one but a trusted circle knew about.

He saw Jenn watching her with the same kind of appreciation, and then the priestess claimed his attention again as she threw her head back, eyes closed and face turned towards the sky, her arms raised on each side perpendicularly to her body. Her lips opened and the murmur of a few words, foreign and unintelligible, reached his ears, soon covered by the wrenching sound of Sam's terrified pleas.

Unguarded, the beast had turned back to Sam, attempting to mount him and using his big tongue to slobber all over him, cock already searching for his goal. Dean closed his arms around the monster's torso and pushed it out of the way with all his force, earning himself big and deep claw marks on his right thigh but the pain didn't register as he stood his ground, ready to fight.

"Come on, Fido," he urged the beast.

"Dean !" burst out from everywhere around him, Sam included.

"Stop teasing that thing !" Jenn added, more than a bit pissed at his recklessness.

He was too pissed himself to listen, willing a big spear to appear in his hands so that he could skewer the creature again and again for even thinking Sam could belong to it. He had found himself in front of a possessed leopard once and was still here to tell the tale. He knew he could survive this encounter too. Teeth and claws were so overrated.

The beast opened its mouth to hiss at him but it never got closer as the priestess came back from her trance and shushed it once more.

"Tebassa," she said, "go back to your pen."

The creature hissed again in Dean's direction, disappointment clear in its whole demeanor, but obeyed its mistress. Watching the hard muscles rolling in its back and limbs as it retreated, Dean was man enough to admit to himself he was kind of glad the fight had been canceled.

"Dean of the Winchesters," Rachel intoned, "the gods are in agreement with you. Still, they need their sacrifice, and they want you to perform. Take your intended now, make him yours, and they will smile upon your mating."

"Does it have to be here ?"

"It does. The tribe has to witness the sacrifice and channel the mating energy to the gods."

"Can you untie him then ? His hands, at the very least ?"

"Not until the sacrifice has come to pass and the blessing of the gods is upon us all. Begin."

"No !" Professor Campbell refused, standing next to Sam. "You can't do that."

Tebassa stopped on its way to its pen, ready to come back and hissing more than ever. Campbell turned to Sam and spoke closely to him.

"Sam, tell them you can't accept this situation, and ask for Professor Singer. He's got no ties to you, no previous desire. He will save you but never ask for anything more after that."

"I can't do that," Sam denied him, looking at the professor as if he had grown a second head. "You heard how the priestess put it, she will never accept anyone else than Dean. And I will not either."

"Then I'll make her see reason, explain to her it has to be this way, that having sex with your own brother is not only a sin in our society, that it breaks every taboo and your soul will rot in hell if you do it."

"Shut up, Professor, or you'll get me killed. I want it to be Dean."

Campbell reared in anger and disappointment but Sam paid him no more heed. He wanted things to get back on track, to get it over with and go back home where he could hide forever from the rest of the world after said world had invaded his privacy in such a forceful way.

Dean approached Sam gingerly.

"Hey, Sammy ! How do you feel ?"

A sob escaped Sam before he could answer.

"Stupid and humiliated, thank you very much. And I'm beginning to lose any feeling in my lower body."

His legs were folded and tied closely to his torso, making sure to keep his ass and hole open and nicely accessible. Trussed up was definitely the best way to describe Sam right now, if not the smart one, not out loud anyway. But Dean saw no humiliation there, not in his eyes at the very least, because Sam was incredibly beautiful and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"So here's the plan," Dean shook himself. "Those fine ladies want to make sure their gods are gonna be nice and kindly to them for a long while and they seem to think that seeing us making sweet, beautiful love would put them in a good mood. It's up to us to offer the best show. Do you think you can do this ?"

"Nice of you to make it sound like I have any choice in the matter."

"I aim to please."

"Stop being a jerk. You have to perform too."

"Excuse you, ye of little faith. My nickname is actually Showman Winchester. Not that making love to you looks in any way like performing."

They lost themselves in each other's eyes for a while. It was the sound of Tebassa whining in its pen that brought them back to the here and now.

"I'm sorry, Sam, it's time," Dean acknowledged while taking Sam's cock in his hand.

The crowd all around went wild.

"Dean," Sam rasped, the feeling of Dean's hand on his flesh getting to him in spite of everything, "I never… never got to tell you, I didn't only lose my mom, I lost my brother too. I remember him, he was my hero, my role model. You see, all my life since then I've known how you feel. And I wish it had been you. My brother. Because you're not what the professor said. You're warm and caring. And I'm glad you're here with me right now."

Dean was too moved to talk. He simply bent over Sam's supine figure and brought a hand to his hair, moving a few loose strands from his brow. The villagers cheered ; some of them began to intone a curious, low song strangely sexy that led both Sam and Dean's dicks to take notice and rise at once, every hair on their bodies erect and ultra-sensitive.

"Dean !" Sam answered Dean's caresses in the only way he could. "Dean, please, make it good for me. This is my first time, I need…"

"I know what you need. Trust me, Sam. I want you to keep such good memories of this moment that we'll want to live it together again and again forever. I've got you, I'm here for you."

Dean was all for reassuring Sam but the truth was, he had nothing to make it that good to begin with. The only lube he could use was saliva, and maybe pre-come once he got himself aroused enough. Which he had to be, despite the many avid watchers, despite his own friends, despite Sam's terror. His body was willing, but his mind wasn't there yet exactly.

The first thing was to calm Sam down, to make him feel good, able to enjoy the sensations.

"Sam," he said feverishly, "listen to me. You know you're _not_ a notch on my bedstead. You're the one I've wanted since the first day, because you've got a pretty stellar ass, and then because you showed me what being in love meant. I love you, Sam, never doubt it."

He cradled in his soothing hands the beloved face, bringing his own closer, inch by inch, until he was certain Sam's focus was totally on him and then their lips touched, lightly, establishing a link between them no one else could rival.

"Do you want me, love ? Did you ever wish the professor had never appeared back at the lake, that I had made love to you that day, as much as I wanted to ? If you did, then remember only that moment."

"Of course I did, you idiot," Sam cried out, nerves frayed.

"Then we're going to make our wish come true."

There was no time to feel ashamed of his desire for Sam and the easiness with which he had managed a full hard-on. It seemed he had been hard for Sam forever, since the day he had remarked the tall and lean kid shaking his grandfather's hand at the lecture that had set off this whole failure of an expedition, and even more since that little nighttime show Sam had offered him which he had been so hard pressed to ignore – pun definitely intended !

He wetted his fingers with his own saliva then distracted Sam with loving butterfly kisses as he brought his digits to Sam's hole. More kisses, deeper, tongues definitely involved this time, took care of Sam's involuntary reaction to the pressure and slide in as he was entered.

Sam had shared a few kisses in his life, the first one with the daughter of their closest neighbors back in Boston, and then Jess of course. With both girls, kisses so shy and hesitant they could hardly compare with what Dean was unleashing on him, what he made him feel now. It had been all fumbling of lips but certainly no tongue, nothing like the intensity and possessiveness Dean was displaying. Nothing like the skill Sam wanted to match to ensure he would offer Dean the same pleasure.

And then he bolted towards Dean, towards his magic fingers, tried to at the very least, tried to get more of the incredible sensation again, memories of the day Dean had touched him intimately topped by the renewed experience. He had almost forgotten how good it felt, and now the ropes forbade him to seek more of it, to push against Dean's fingers and force them further inside.

"More," he moaned, hardly conscious the word had left his mouth.

Dean obliged immediately by pushing another digit inside him. Sam was so hot, and though his flesh had tried to resist at first, it was modeling itself more and more around Dean, opening again just like the first time, willing, eager. He used more saliva to add a third finger, and then a fourth, sending a quick and fervent prayer to whatever god willing to listen and help that it would be enough to prevent any damage for Sam, and even possibly make it good for him. He didn't dare hope for too much more.

"Are you ready ?" he asked Sam as he loosened his pants and got his own cock out.

"As I'll ever be in these circumstances, and I trust you."

Dean kissed him again as he pushed inside, missing the feeling of Sam's arms and legs around him, the evidence of their shared desire, until Sam's furnace became too much for him to keep thinking. None of his dreams about this moment had come close, and his dick became an instant worshipper of Sam's sheathing walls as it bottomed out and settled there, sliding in slow, tender movements to get intimate without hurting Sam.

It paid obviously, Sam's breath hitching with each new move, long sliding here, small shuffle there. He threw his head back, baring his neck for Dean's devouring lips and agile tongue, overwhelmed by the fullness bordering on too much, the stretching so close to pain but not, the need to go on forever, to be Dean's, and Dean's only. To answer his body's desires and ride along until there was nothing but pleasure between them.

"This is so not the way I imagined my first time," Sam sobbed as he was moved in time with Dean's thrusts. "Only with you. Not with an audience."

As if they realized they had just been mentioned, the people around yelled even louder, more encouraging than ever, crazy with lust and the prospect of making their gods happy, of what it meant for them, all the joys that would result from the deities' happiness. So they chanted, loud and enthusiastic, a wave of sound to reach the sky and bring on its way the energy flowing through the sacrificed.

"I know, love, but look at me, and only me. Whatever happens, look at me and you'll see there's nothing else but me here and now."

Dean moved his hips a bit to the right to distract Sam. His lover threw his head back again in response, immersed in a sea of pleasure as Dean hit his prostate repeatedly.

"There, that's it," Dean approved, panting. "You're so beautiful, so responsive. I've imagined sharing this with you the very moment I first saw you."

"We could have been doing it for months now. I've been so stupid. I'm sorry. We should have been doing it a long time before."

"Don't blame yourself, Sammy. Blame those would-be Amazons, or blame my dick of a grandfather if you wish, but not yourself."

It was becoming harder and harder for Dean to remain coherent, to focus on anything else beyond the pleasure of being in Sam at last, pounding into him like there was no tomorrow. Making the man his forever, whatever might happen.

Sam's blissful moans were like nectar on his lips that Dean collected again and again, unintentional gift from those fucking gods who had them performing so that they would get their jollies by shaming Sam in front of their friends and angering Dean. Well, no luck ! Dean could attest they both enjoyed this encounter.

"You're mine, Sammy, you hear ?"

"Yes, Dean, yours, I promise," Sam answered in the middle of his cries of pleasure.

Dean pushed in again, as far as he could, to remind Sam he belonged to him and no one else, not even those gods or those women encroaching on their intimacy. He slid in and out, trailed his moist lips against Sam's cheeks and jaw, pinched his lover's nipples between his fingers, and then did it all again with variables, lips closing on the nipples and fingers in Sam's mouth, Sam's hard cock pushing against Dean's stomach to leave precome, balls tightening to announce the imminence of his coming.

In again, and Dean was done, sperm flowing to soothe Sam's inner walls and make his last aborted thrusts easier on him, milked to the brim by Sam's own wicked orgasm that had him arching his back once more to get closer to Dean until the friction of his own cock against anything became too painful to bear.

They rested for a long moment, panting and sweating their only physical exertions now after such an exhausting and tremendous exercise, hardly aware of the cries of joy exchanged through the crowd. Dean only moved when he felt the hand of the priestess on his clothed shoulder, but he didn't go far, still intent on protecting Sam from the rest of the world.

"Dean and Samuel of the Winchesters," Rachel said, using that monotonous, creepy tone again, "the gods are pleased with your efforts. They recognize your mating and you are now bonded in front of them as well as us. You'll be at each other's side forever, thriving to sustain your people and please the gods who will grant you all life and health in return, as they will for us again in the future."

The end was rather anticlimactic. Sam was untied and Dean helped him to stand when his legs refused to carry him for a while. Propped against the altar, Sam let Dean's arms surround and protect him and hid his face in his lover's neck – his mate, as the priestess had said – incapable of catching anyone else's eyes. They were given their weapons back, and a small loincloth that didn't hide much to lace over Sam's hips, then sent on their merry way with no standing invitation to visit any time they were in the neighborhood.

No one argued about it as they left in a hurry.

 

_July 23rd_

_I can't rest. I'm back from what was probably the most defining moment of my life, and all kinds of thoughts keep running through my mind._

_Later, I'll find how to write down this experience and what it means to me that I'm not a virgin anymore, that I was taken by Dean – that I chose to offer my virginity to Dean in these very special circumstances in which my choices were few and more than limited._

_I embraced my attraction to him, my love for him, and did my best to turn this sacrifice into something consensual for my first time. Dean was with me all the time and all the way with his own experience and feelings, taking me along for a wild ride that will always leave me with as many good memories as the rest of the situation will not. Being led around naked and vulnerable by a bunch of crazy female warriors might be a laughing matter to a lot of men in my old world but it was not, actually, a good fantasy. Nor was the potential rape by the ugliest and biggest-cocked beast of the plateau._

_I have no doubt these memories will feature preeminently in my future nightmares. And yet this is not what my mind keeps coming back to._

_Indeed, I can't stop thinking about what Professor Campbell said and put it in relation with the priestess' magical nonsense. Wondering if this was such nonsense. Why she was so quick to believe our lies about Dean being my brother and owning me. Was she just kind-hearted enough to let me use this trick to get out of being taken by a deathly monster or did she see something else ? I don't want to believe she might be aware of more than us common mortals are, but then I think again of the professor and my belief falters._

_I need to find out what Professor Campbell knows that he's hiding from me._

Tired of fighting with the same thoughts, Sam decided to rejoin the others and stood up, ignoring the pain in his ass left by Dean's thorough lovemaking as well as the heated memories he associated with the sensation. Sore he might be, but he already knew he'd want to do it again someday. With Dean, and only Dean.

Led by the voices getting louder as he walked to the central room of the Tree, Sam soon found himself in the midst of another epic argument involving the professor and Dean.

"Oh that's rich coming from you," Dean said, red in the face, "knowing that if you hadn't interfered earlier in our relationship, Sam would never have had to suffer this ordeal in the first place ! Never would have had to live his first time in public, I would have been able to take care of him the way he deserves."

"All you care about is how long you didn't get to fuck someone, admit it ! You're just like your father, led by your dick…"

"Please," Sam cut in when he saw Dean's fists tightening in answer to the insult to his father, "both of you. This is over and done with, stop fighting over a situation none of us could control. Professor, maybe it will help you feel better to know that if it had to happen, better this than anything else. I'd never have chosen my first time to happen so publicly but Dean took care of me, lovingly. This is all that matters."

"That's not enough of an excuse. He didn't have to do this. I was going to save you, tell them… tell them you belong to me."

Campbell was not delusional enough to miss the disgusted expression on Sam's face.

"No ! Not that way, Sammy, never that way. Not as your lover, I would never stoop so low. You belong to me because I'm your grandfather."

Sam was too stupefied to call the older man on his use of Dean's diminutive for him, and even less his view of ownership between family members, but something in him recognized the truth in Campbell's words. He had been right to wonder.

"Why didn't you tell me ?" he asked in a hoarse voice he hardly recognized as his.

"I couldn't. Not without knowing first what had really happened to your mother. It could have meant endangering your life."

Sam turned to Dean, as if looking for help deciphering the clusterfuck of their relationship, and realized this news wasn't quite a surprise for his new lover – the man who just turned out to be his brother.

"You also knew, didn't you ?" Sam said, startled.

This was the only explanation for Dean's utter lack of surprise.

"Why didn't you tell me ?" Sam asked again.

"I didn't know, not for sure anyway. But I began to wonder when I learned about your birthdate, and even more when you told me how Samuel had kept in touch with you after you two met in your college. My grandfather had never shown interest in anybody unless they could give him something, but maybe, if they reminded him of his daughter in a positive way... Not like me, obviously. Then his reason to prevent me from fucking you to save your life, trying to push Singer to do it instead because he had no family ties to you. And finally, you telling me you wished I were your brother, as if something had clicked for you too, even without the clues I had. Our brotherhood explained everything, especially Samuel's attitude : you were different, the one Mom had deemed promising enough to take with her when she left, and you were getting an education. You were the grandson Samuel Campbell could be proud of, am I right, dear grandfather ?"

"And you still wonder why I've always felt ashamed of you ? After confessing that you decided to pursue a sexual relationship with the man you thought was your own brother ?"

Sam turned to the professor and slid his hand into Dean's.

"If you're judging him for this, then judge me by the same measuring rod. There is no doubt left, and still I wish to pursue a relationship with my own brother. Sexual and sentimental. So will you shun me too, grandfather ?"

Samuel's face got covered with a pained expression.

"Sam, he twisted your mind. Don't let him pull you down to his level, you're worth so much more than him ! Mary chose you and she left him behind, it should tell you all you need to know."

"Mary left you too, old man," Dean stepped in. "Just sayin'."

"He's right, Professor," Sam approved. "What should I make of this ?"

Sam wasn't sure he would have given himself to Dean had he learned about their parentage before they had made love, not that easily anyway. But it was a moot point now. They were both lovers and brothers, and he couldn't feel bad about it. Nor did he want to choose between his family members at the same time he realized he was not alone anymore. There was no question that Dean would always win now that his eyes had opened, but it didn't mean he wanted to lose on the time he could have with his grandfather, only that he had to find a way to do it without hurting Dean. And he still hoped to be able to reconcile both men.

It wouldn't be right now, as the professor left the room in a huff, clearly upset that Sam hadn't realized the enormity of the day's events. As if.

Of course he realized. Of course he knew everything had changed now. But this grandfather he had finally got back should understand the warrior women hadn't so much ruined his life as expanded it.

"I guess I should be thankful to the Amazons that they brought us together," he said to a limping Dean as they walked back to their room.

"Yeah," his brother responded, coming closer to roll an arm around Sam's waist. "Didn't like those women much but they had one thing right : from now on, I'm putting a leash on you."

"Kinky…"

"Hopefully. But first and foremost, I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Ever. Danger finds you too easily."

"My hero ! Is this the moment I'm supposed to swoon ?"

"And fall into my arms for a kiss."

"I can do that."

"Hold that thought !"

As swiftly as he could with his bandaged leg, Dean arranged their dry-moss mattresses next to each other and Sam felt a damn good shiver take his whole body at another sign that he now had someone to share everything with, beginning with the most intimate moments – really intimate, as soon as Sam felt good enough to go down that road again.

He wanted to explore everything, learn Dean's body the way he had always done his research, passionately, with no sense of limits. He wanted to be alone with him, make him talk about their family, rediscover the brother he had worshiped in his young age but remembered so little of, get to know the grown man, his lover, and feel so close, so intimate, that someday soon making love would feel the most natural thing in the world, far from any audience and ceremony.

He let Dean lay him down next to him and hold him close.

"How do you feel ?" Dean asked, both his hands cradling Sam's face while his gaze gave him nowhere to hide from his superior point of view.

"A bit sore. Not well enough to… do it… again. I'm sorry…"

"Sam, keep calm. I just want to sleep right next to you, is that alright ?"

"Yes," Sam nodded. "I'm sorry I thought…"

"Ssshhh," Dean interrupted. "We're good. You're new to all this, and this day has been a tad disturbing. We need to rest, okay ?"

Sam nodded again, lost in Dean's eyes, with so much love in them that Dean couldn't keep the freaking sentimental words in.

"I love you, you know that ?" he said, blushing only a little.

"I love you too."

Satisfied, Dean lay down next to him, his left arm once again around Sam's waist, heads touching. Their eyes soon closed and they let sleep overtake them.

Sam became Dean's nurse in the next days, changing Dean's bandages twice a day as they woke up and right before sleep. The frightful and deep gashes reminded him of the dinosaur and what could have happened, but taking care of Dean's clawed thigh was also the best way to ease into a new relationship, something between being just friends and the passion they had shared because of the Amazons. The medical care always led to a prolonged session of kissing and heavy petting that told Sam he would soon be able to go further.

Samuel had been sulking ever since they came back from the sacrifice, incapable of letting go of his grandsons' depravity and what he saw as Sam's betrayal.

He was the only one really bothered by the situation. Jenn was happy for them, if a little jealous of the time they spent together exclusively inching in on her own time with Dean. Meg couldn't care less one way or the other, apart from the fact that she was now able to spend all the time she wished for with Jenn. Even Professor Singer, while obviously not ready to talk or think about it, didn't shun them for it. On the contrary, his relationship with Dean had definitely cleared enough with this latest adventure that he finally felt free to show the less professorial aspects of his personality, something Dean highly approved of.

"Call me Bobby already, son ! The way things are, I don't see that I'm going to give a lecture again anytime soon. And nature has a talent to make us all equal in the face of adversity. If anything, we rely far more on you and your knowledge here than we do on my scholarly achievements so it should be me calling you Professor."

Dean felt humbled and stunned at the same time. Nobody had ever talked to him like that – certainly no one who could show such an impressive resume and the academic laurels to go with it – and it left him speechless for a moment.

"You know that's not entirely true, Bobby," he tried, rolling the name in his mouth – strange, but not impossible. "We need your calm in every hairy situation, and we need your expertise at all times. I wouldn't have been able to save Sam without you."

"Well, let's just agree to help each other and stop with all the bowing and kowtowing. You're a good man, Dean Winchester, one of the best I've met, and I've met plenty. You need to know that."

This time, Dean felt something clogging his throat. Not even his beloved dad had ever bothered with compliments. So instead of words, Dean offered the next best thank you he could. Eye to eye, Dean struggling with an emotion he was not used to, they shook hands and forged an alliance.

Dean turned away to go back to his bedroom and hide for a little while, only to stumble upon Sam waiting for him at the entrance to the living room. With one look, Sam knew better than to speak. He took Dean's hand and led him to their room.

"He's right, you know ?" Sam finally said when they were both seated on their combined mattresses, his arms lovingly holding Dean's body.

"What ?" Dean asked, unwilling to let out more than Sam might have heard.

His question earned him a kiss on his hair.

"You're a good man, Dean Winchester. Not even mentioning your best big brother award, we'd never have survived without you. I would be a mess by now, raped, maybe still in this horrible creature's possession, or more probably dead. I wouldn't feel so much in love if you weren't someone I can look up to, if I wasn't proud of being with you."

"What is this ?" Dean mocked weakly. "An illustration for the marriage and romance column in the next Boston's Voice issue ?"

Sam laughed and Dean felt him moving against his body.

"Mock me all you want, you tough guy. But never forget that I love you and that I'm proud of you. When this is all over, if we ever find a way back home, all I want is take you to meet my mom. She's going to love you."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to learn that her little boy is giving it up to his long lost big brother !"

"She'll be relieved to know I've found my family and that I'm happy at last."

Sam had clung to normal and to socially agreed interests in reaction to both the losses of his youth and his adoptive mother's eccentricity. Ellie Vizyak was a gentle weirdo the high society of Boston had no trouble forgiving for being single and showing off her lovers and the boy she had adopted without knowing anything about him as long as she was rich. She had never had a problem with her son keeping another name than hers, nor did she mind his glaring lack of attraction to the fairer sex – even though she had liked Jess, Ellie had questioned Sam's decision to marry her. She would probably find if very progressive of her old-fashioned son to sleep with his very own brother ; and feel at ease that Sam was finally in love, the head-over-heels kind of feelings she had accused him of missing in his previous relationship.

"Sorry if I have a hard time believing you," Dean protested. "You left her pure as the driven snow. She'd have real cause to see me as a degenerate for taking the virginity you kept for the one you'd marry someday."

Sam blushed hot and turned away.

"Hey ! I'm not criticizing or mocking you. I just have to admit I don't really understand your choice, or even how you managed to wait for so long."

"It wasn't much of a choice. More like a protection. Protection for myself. I never really wanted to take a lover. I even shied away from imagining myself with women. My one relationship was all very tender and loving but passion was not what I was looking for. I didn't even kiss her that much."

There, he had said it, had displayed the whole depth and width of his lack of experience. So be it.

"All I hope," Dean said, "is that you feel the real sacrifice wasn't to give it up to me."

It struck Sam then that Dean was just as much at a loss as him, lost in a sea of contradictory feelings and desires, faced with the probability of scorn and shame, pilloried for their deviant love. Not many people were as liberal and free-thinking as Ellie. Sam wasn't sure where that left them, where they would go from here.

"Would you still be with me, were we still living our usual lives ? I mean, would you want me more than once ?"

"You're a good journalist, why don't you use your instincts for this too ?"

"My journalist instincts don't usually factor my wants and needs in. I don't care about spending my life with the men I write about."

Dean turned Sam's face back while he applied his whole body against him and leaned with a leer.

"Why Sam Wesson, are you implying you'd be interested in making an honest man of me ?"

"Not _that_ honest," Sam grinned, making sure his intentions were clear by pushing his hips up, groins meeting in a delicious friction.

Maybe he wasn't ready yet to walk the full road again, but he wasn't above teasing Dean. It was kind of his job now, as a good brother, to make up for the kisses they shared for a while, slowly, sensually, that certainly weren't part of it.

"My instincts tell me you're not a fool and you know I'm good for you," he said at last. "Not just today, not even just here. I'm your brother and you need me."

"See ? You should always trust your instincts."

Dean's lips sought his again and they kissed plainly, sexily, arousing Sam in a minute up to his limits.

"Sam Winchester," Dean mused, remembering they now shared a name, and all that it entailed. "Has a nice ring to it."

Sam's heart banged out of proportion. He had thought for a second that Dean, against all logic and possibility, was kind of imagining Sam wearing his last name after they had married.

Then it came back to him, and his heart did some strange backflip once again. Winchester was indeed his name, his real name, by right and by birth. And he was allowed to claim it back, to become a Winchester once again, to stand by Dean's side and assert his right to be there.

Even then, there were still so many things they didn't know about each other and Sam couldn't help feeling, in that tiniest place deep inside himself, that his happiness depended on Dean being stranded in that one location and not at large in the world. Unless Sam could accompany him.

"What will you do, if we can make it back ?"

"You wonder if I'll go back to England while you return to Boston ? If it will be the last we see of each other, you back at your job, wherever your newspaper might send you, and me traveling around the world in search of the latest, shiniest supernatural artifact or a good hunt ? I don't have a clue right now about the details but I'm sure we'll find a way to make it work. And remember, half of the house and the land are yours anyway, which means you're welcome there anytime you want. As long as you want."

Sam gaped at him. He was pretty sure Dean had lied, or rather smudged the truth by saying his house and lands half-belonged to Sam. He seemed to recall that English laws had the oldest sons of aristocratic families inheriting both the name and the fortune, leaving to their good will the duty of caring for their relatives or not. But it wasn't the important part of it.

He had never even thought of that possibility. They could live together without raising suspicion, two brothers who had found each other again and wanted to make up for lost time, learn to know each other again, as adults and friends.

And behind the closed doors of their home, as lovers, for as long as Dean didn't get tired of him.

But they wouldn't need to hide as long as they stayed on the lost plateau, and Sam intended to take advantage of their situation to the best of his very special, very extended abilities.

FIN

  


**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the end of Dean and Sam's adventures on the lost plateau ! I have another part more than half-written, and a third one is also in the work already. I even have ideas for timestamps, including one infringing on another fandom territory. So stay tuned, you'll see more of the Campbell-Singer expedition soon !


End file.
